


And the Ash Shall Rise

by LikeMeReckless



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angels and Demons, Domestic Violence, F/M, Purgatory, Riverdale is purgatory, Self-Harm, everybody is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-18 06:03:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21270689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeMeReckless/pseuds/LikeMeReckless
Summary: Riverdale is actually Purgatory (why else would so many crazy things happen in one town!) Jughead Jones, Shadowman of purgatory level one has been tasked with finding an Awakened soul, one who the Premier Shadowman says jeopardizes the future of their world. When Jughead discovers Betty Cooper’s soul down by the River Styx he finds all is not as it seems and a final battle between Heaven and Hell is on the verge of breakout.*It’s Purgatory so ALL characters are dead.*You will find out how they died.*Get ready for a ride!
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge/Reggie Mantle
Comments: 70
Kudos: 53
Collections: 6th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Tricks and Treats of Riverdale





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This whole story is complete and I will post a chapter each day!
> 
> Warning: this story features violence and mentions of self harm.
> 
> Thanks so much to @jandjsalmon for her AMAZING edits and suggestions! This would not be complete without her!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @likemereckless
> 
> This story makes some mentions of Dante Alighieri’s work, Divine Comedy, specifically the second part, Purgatorio.
> 
> I don’t own these characters. I just borrow them to write and relieve stress.

The Waking by Theodore Roethke

“I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.

I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?

I hear my being dance from ear to ear.

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close behind me, which are you?

God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,

And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?

The lonely worm climbs up a winding stair;

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do

To you and me; so take the lively air;

And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.

What falls away is always. And is near.

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

I learn by going where I have to go.”

**  
Watcher’s Woods**

**Purgatory- Level 1**

**12:46 am**

The air in the wood hung heavily, weighing it down as if submerged underwater. The crisp fall air lacked the strength to cut through the thickness that hung, creating an ominous mood that left the group of men loitering there unsettled. The bare November oaks stretched their elongated fingers overhead, casting shadows on the men below. It was fitting, truly, for this to be since the men, now congregated in a loose circle, were in fact Shadowmen, a brethren themselves, always cloaked in darkness, lurking.

The Gathering had been called to order by the Council in an unorthodox, and urgent, manner. The brethren, clad in their drab gray and black garments, stood silently, feet crunching the leaves that had accumulated on the soil beneath them. Through a gap in the trees, Andromalius, The Premiere Shadowman and leader of the brethren, emerged, nodding a solemn greeting to his brothers. His voice, deep and low, cut through the density of the night.

“Thank you, brothers, for congregating on such short notice,” he began, eyes raking over the others who were arranged around him.

“I shall speak frankly and briefly. I’ve felt flutterings of an awakening among us,” he began, pausing to wait out the hushed whispers that were exchanged between the men. After a moment, he raised his hand to declare silence.

“In our centuries as keepers here, there has only been one other awakening, as we know. His sight allowed him to see through the murkiness here and return to his mortal state. So angered was Dante by the whole ruse, he slandered and exposed our dwelling here, angering God and causing the church to add it to doctrine. This unruled land became our charge and we were chained here to oversee things. We cannot allow this to happen again.”

One of the younger-looking men shed his hood and stepped forward, an anxious expression gracing his features.

“Tell us Andromalius, what do you need?”

The older gentlemen removed his hood as well and stepped forward to meet the man in the middle. 

“I need you to man your levels. Look for any behavior out of the ordinary and out of doctrine. Report anything suspicious back to me,” he spoke, voice firm and laced with warning.

From the circle, another voice spoke up, more questioning and less hesitant than the other Brother.

“What will happen? To the one who has awakened...” he questioned, lowering his hood to be seen as was protocol.

“The soul will be eradicated, Brother Jones,” The Premiere said coldly. “Immediately.”

With his statement final, he turned and began to leave the circle, his form evaporating into a cloud of gray before he was back in the covering of trees. Upon his exit the others began to vanish as well, leaving traces of ash in their wake, until only the young man and Brother Jones remained.

“Brother Jones,” the young man spoke. “What does he mean by eradicated? Surely not…”

The boy stopped, unable to go on. 

“Exactly that, Ezekiel,” Jughead Jones, Shadowman of Riverdale, level one of purgatory, replied. “The soul will be erased, forced to float in an eternal sea of black silence and solitude.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Ezekiel nodded before placing his hood once again over his head.

“A fate worse than one we can deliver,” he remarked, turning to face Jughead.

“There is no worse fate, Ezekiel,” Jughead replied. “Do not make accusations of anyone lightly in this matter. The consequences are of the worst nature.”

With that, Jughead vanished, leaving his own trail of ash behind and a young Ezekiel alone in the woods, the cold in his bones having nothing to do with the chill in the air.

**Riverdale **

**Purgatory- Level 1**

**Cooper Household**

Betty Cooper sat up from beneath the floral comforter, groggily reaching over to slap at the alarm blaring a morning wake up into her ears. She knew she had about thirty seconds before her mother, Alice Cooper, came charging into the room, barking orders, dictating her existence, and criticizing her life. Every day was the same routine.

“Four, three, two, one…” she huffed out as her bedroom door swung open, a perfectly poised Alice Cooper striding through, heels clicking on the hardwood.

“Out of bed, Elizabeth. You don’t want to be late,” she clucked out, flinging open the shades and inviting in the morning sun.

Betty winced and blinked, the sun inundating her still sleep-filled eyes.

“God forbid, I’m ever late,” she muttered, tossing back the blankets and climbing out of bed. 

The bare soles of Betty’s feet hit the ground and a horrifyingly real sense of deja vu fell over her. The world around her began to spin as if she were perched on the edge of a top. As the pink of her walls blended in with the contrasting colors of her posters, the whole room became a blur. Bringing her head down between her knees, Betty sucked in large breaths of air, eyes squeezed shut tight and palms clenching. 

Betty’s fists squeezed and twisted the comforter and her nails dug into her palms. Peering through one eyelid, everything around her looked grey and chipped, as if her whole room were a wax painting, melting on a hot day. Thick globs of gray and black dripped down her walls revealing a dense forest and darkness. Betty took another enormous breath and once again squeezed her eyelids closed tight.

“Elizabeth!” Alice Cooper yelled, hands shaking Betty’s shoulders causing her to snap her head up to examine her mother. 

The room was once again still and the coloring was that of a perfectly pixelated pink. 

“I told you not to stay up too late, Elizabeth. You’re daydreaming again! Did you even bother to take your medication?” Alice accused, hand on her hip and predatory look in her eye.

Betty rose from her bed. Occasionally the room would garner a fuzzy appearance, almost like static, but she shook the feeling off and followed Alice over to her closet where she was already picking out her ensemble for the day; a pink flowery tank top with a pair of white denim jeans and a white, flower embroidered cardigan to go over it. 

“Here,” Alice said firmly, placing the garments into Betty’s arms. “And wear your tan sandals, not those pink ones you tried to get past me that make you look like a harlot.”

“I’m 18, Mom. I think I should be able to dress myself,” Betty countered, walking over and dumping the piles of clothing onto the bed.

“When you’re out from under my roof, providing your own clothes, your own food, and remove the good Cooper name from yours, then you can act like the deviant you are, Elizabeth.” 

Alice placed a palm against Betty’s cheek, the crazy behind her eyes showing through the plastic smile she wore. “Now, get dressed.”

As her bedroom door closed Betty flopped down on her back and grabbed a pillow from above her head. Placing it against her face, she pressed down tightly, feeling the oxygen blocked from her lungs briefly, before screaming into the feathery fabric. Letting all her anger out on the pillow, Betty turned to face her bedroom window, glancing out and across the street towards Archie’s house, wondering if his morning was faring better than hers.

**Riverdale**

**Purgatory Level 1**

**Andrews House**

The house was quiet. No floorboards creaked, no morning news broadcast the local weather and traffic from a TV station. Archie Andrews sat at the kitchen island eating a bowl of dry cereal. The silence of his morning did not cross his mind. He did not find it odd. He did not find it usual. In fact, it didn’t even register in his mind that things could be any other way. As he crunched down once more on his cornflakes, a knock on his back door pulled him from his stupor.

“S’open,” he called, not bothering to get up from his stool.

Turning the knob and pushing into the kitchen, Betty greeted Archie with a smile and a sigh.

“Ugh, it’s so peaceful here. Must be nice to have a morning without being criticized for your appearance one hundred times before eight AM,” Betty teased, dropping her bag and sitting down on the stool next to his.

Archie shrugged and pushed the box of banana nut muffins her way. Their mornings usually went something like this. Betty would eat the one poached egg her mother provided and then, under the pretense of checking his homework before walking to school, would come to Archie’s to fill her empty stomach.

“It seems extra quiet today, Arch. Something different going on?” Betty questioned, picking a large walnut out of the side of the muffin before popping it into her mouth.

“I mean, it feels the same to me. It’s breakfast. We’re eating,” he shrugged. “I don’t know, Betty.”

Betty paused, her eyebrows knit together in thought and contemplation. 

“Where’s Fred?” Betty asked, her voice laced with confusion and a baffled look crossing her features.

Archie tossed a quizzical look her way and rose from his seat to place his cereal bowl in the sink. 

“Who’s Fred?” Archie asked, baffled by her question.

Betty thought carefully before replying. “I’m not sure. No one I guess. I just- forget I asked.”

Archie hopped around the corner and grabbed her backpack before grabbing his own.

“Already forgotten,” he said, holding Betty’s bag out to her. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late again.”

Archie placed a palm against Betty’s back and guided her out the kitchen door. Betty gave one more squinted glance back towards the empty chairs in the kitchen and couldn’t help but whisper, “Bye, Fred,” under her breath as the wooden door closed.

**Jones Dwelling**

**Riverdale **

**Purgatory-Level 1**

Piles of leather-bound manuscripts were piled high upon the oak wood tabletop in the study. The lengthy green curtains hung floor to ceiling, closed, blocking out all the daylight from the room. The only light came from a few burning lanterns throughout the small area. Jughead closed the particular text he had been reading and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, sitting back and rolling the tension from his shoulders. Perhaps he should leave his dark prison and get a massage, maybe even a happy ending; take advantage of the benefits of Purgatory like his Shadow brethren do.

In the beginning, he had felt it an honor. His chosen appointment to a keeper of purgatory allowed him certain privileges not permitted in either Heaven or Hell. Existing here was like being human and living on a human plane, but without watchful eyes or judgment. It wasn’t always this way.

In the beginning, Purgatory was unmanned and unruled. Souls would stop here as a chance for penance before their final sentencing. Most people here had committed small, menial sins and had not had the chance to properly atone prior to their demise. Here, they were offered chances in the upper levels to right their wrongs and punished the deeper one descended. If one descended all the way without repenting, their fate was sealed. Those who sought better ways and paid their penance, those who were made pure, would go to the light of God.

It was simple really and serviced itself. It was like the self service gas station of the Otherworlds. That is, until, the first Awakening..

In the 14th century, Dante Alighieri found himself in a confusing state. Day after day he seemed to relive the same circumstance, faced with choices and decisions, ones which you could say would define one’s character. Dante chose poorly. As he continued to descend, Dante began to recall the day to day occurrences and what they must mean. 

Then, one repetitive day, Dante recalled his life as a poet in Italy and the lascivious lifestyle he had led. He also could recall the exact moment it had ended in year 1296. Another man had killed him, retaliation for his work, La Vita Nuova, which the fellow deemed improper. 

Dante’s Awakening angered him. He had led a pious lifestyle and was a young, God-fearing man. To be subjected to such repetitive tortures in Purgatory was a joke. Using his wits and new found senses, Dante was able to return to Level one and find an opening in the veil, returning to his human life.

None of this would have even mattered if Dante, still tortured by nightmares, had not published his great Divine Comedy. Not only did this expose the workings of Purgatory, but it embellished them to terrible heights, angering the Otherworlds leaders. People felt as though they could now thwart Purgatory, or worse, that this was unavoidable and life with sin should be enjoyed and repented after. Thus, the Renaissance was born.

In an effort to correct this slight, God and Lucifer created the Shadow brethren. Created with strands of most devoted angels, humans, and the fallen angels- demons, they were made to rule over the interim.

The job of Shadowmen varied, depending on their level of keep. In the higher levels, they were to offer temptations and atonement. If the souls chose wisely and atoned for their sins, they would transcend to heaven. Those who continued on an impure path moved into the lower levels of Purgatory, finally entering Hell if no amends were made.

Jughead has taken pride in his job once; tempting his cohorts and taking pride when they chose well, doling out punishment when they did not. He had always been in charge of Level one as he was the softest of his brethren, rooting for good to win. His friend, Azrael, head of Level 4, always said that if they were all fifty percent angel and fifty percent demon, Jughead was definitely more like eighty twenty.

He conceded it was true. Somewhere in the past seven hundred years, Jughead had lost his zest for the Shadow brethren. He had always had a deep, accurate sense within him and he felt as though things with the Shadowmen and the Premier Shadowman, their leader, had been disconnected from their original purpose for the past two centuries or so. 

He had sensed anAwakening, like the Premiere Shadowman had as well. But, this one felt different. It was much unlike Dante’s. It was more sad, more pure. And Jughead was pretty sure it was right here in Riverdale.

He smiled, a rare occurrence, at the name he had given Level one. Mainly because the River Styx flowed through Level one, guiding and transporting souls. It was their entryway in and their exit out. Azrael had scolded him for this and called him a child.

“Honestly, Jones,” he had sighed, shaking his head. “It’s like naming a puppy. Don’t get too attached to this place or the people. You know it’s all temporary.”

Sometimes Jughead wished he wasn’t created. Too much angel for the Underworld and too much demon for Heaven. He was, ironically, constantly in Limbo himself. Rather than indulge in the lust and hedonistic tendencies of his demon side like many of his brethren over the years, he had become almost recluse; a shut in. 

The Awakening changed all that.

Putting out the candles and shifting all the manuscripts, Jughead rose from the table, no longer clad in black robes, but in civilian clothes of the time. He supposed it was time to venture out and look into his charges. One of them, he was pretty sure, was about to Awaken fully, and that could be a messy business.

**Riverdale High**

**Purgatory- Level 1**

“Move it, Donna Reed,” Cheryl snarled, using her free elbow to jab Betty in the ribs, knocking her out of her way.

Betty gasped, hand moving toward her rib cage to rub the offending wound.

“Cheryl, seriously?” Archie said, shaking his head. “What is with you always getting on Betty. Knock it off.”

“Listen carrot top,” Cheryl huffed out, walking back towards Betty once more, fingers playing with the collar of Betty’s cardigan. “Some people are top of the food chain and others, like little baby Cooper over here, are shark bait. Now unless you’d like to join your chastity belt wearing social charity case of a friend here in high school hell, I suggest you check yourself.”

“Alright, now I-“ Archie began before being halted by Betty’s arm across his chest, stopping him from interjecting.

“Cheryl, where’s Jason?” Betty asked politely and curiously. “I noticed you’ve been on edge since he’s been gone and maybe you need someone to talk to.”

“Have you ditched airhead Barbie and gone psycho Barbie on us now, Betty? Who the hell is Jason?” Cheryl folded her arms across her chest and glared at Betty.

“He’s… your brother?” Betty said, the statement sounding a bit like a question as it left her lips.

Cheryl unfolded her arms and slapped Betty’s books out of her arms, watching them land with a heavy thud on the floor and papers scattered all over. Passersby eyed the sight, some chuckling, others commenting, “nice”, and a few with their heads down hoping not to be noticed by Cheryl themselves.

“I don’t have a brother, crazy Cooper,” Cheryl retorted, grabbing Betty’s hands and turning them over to expose the scars on her palms and forearms. “Maybe you really have gone off the deep end this time. Maybe this time you’ll do it right and just end it. Do us all a favor.”

Cheryl flung Betty’s arms back down to her sides. 

“Jason,” she whispered to herself. Pausing and turning up her lips she dismissed the thought and sauntered down the hall.

Just as Cheryl turned one corner, Veronica Lodge turned another. Flicking her raven hair over her shoulder, she eyed Betty and Archie carefully.

Betty had pulled her sleeves back down over her forearms and had wrapped her arms around herself. 

“Betty, hey,” Archie said, pulling her face into his chest for a hug. “We know you didn’t- I know it’s not what happened…”

Betty snuggled into his t-shirt, small silent drops from her eyes leaving pinprick puddles on the fabric. She felt hidden in his embrace, safe.

“B,” Veronica whispered as she approached her friend. “What happened?”

“Cheryl happened,” Archie replied, eyes tracking the hall she had descended down.

“Oh, B. You have to stand up to her already” Veronica said pitifully. “You can’t let her push you around so much.”

Betty pulled her head from Archie’s chest and sniffling, wiped the corners of her eyes.

“I feel bad for her, V. She just lost her brother to the currents of Sweetwater River. I can’t even imagine how that must feel. It’s so tragic. It’s no wonder she acts the way she does.”

Archie and Veronica exchanged glances with each other, pictures of concern etched on both their faces.

“Betty, are you sure you’re alright?” Archie asked. “That’s the second time you mentioned her brother, but Cheryl is an only child.”

Like a flashback to her morning, Betty’s world began to spin. The tan paint of the lockers turned into a murky, melting dark gray. Grinning faces on the school inclusiveness posters boiled and popped, leaving ash and flames in their wake.

As Betty turned to escape the crumbling scene before her, she saw Veronica and Archie, not as they were before, but as combinations of dark and light; ash and fire emanating from Veronica’s knee caps and up and a warm, lead fierce glow came from there down to her toes. Archie, on the other hand, was merely the shadow outline of a man, only the tips of his hair being dark, the rest of him casting a brilliant glow through all the ash.

She wanted to scream. She had intended to scream. But, the light dripping from Archie’s existence cut through her terror, cut through the darkness, and slowly brought her reality back to a normal state.

“B!” Veronica yelled, coming into regular view again. “Do you need to see the nurse?” 

Betty shook her head. “I’m fine guys. I have to go,” she muttered, grabbing her scattered books and heading down the hall.

Behind her she could hear Veronica questioning Archie. 

“Do you always have to let her hang all over you Archiekins? You are mine after all,” Veronica whined.

“Ronnie, she’s my friend and something is off. She’s your friend, too. How about a little more warmth,” Archie warned.

“I’m just protecting you, Arch. What happens next time that girl hurts herself. She’s a loose cannon and we can only support her so much.”

“We all need help, Ronnie,” Archie lamented. “It doesn’t matter if it’s inconvenient for you and I. Betty needs us and when you’re called, you step up.”

Veronica frowned as if this whole idea was new to her. “You’re right, Archiekins. She’s lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you.”

Betty found herself wandering down towards Sweetwater River to find some clarity. It was a gorgeous, clear day which contrasted nicely with the stark gray visions she’d been having. 

Finding a large tree and a cozy looking patch of moss, Betty flopped down and pulled her knees up into her chest, resting her chin on top of them. She wrapped her arms tightly around her legs and watched the water cascade downward, swiping against the rocks as it flowed.

It was kind of like life, Betty mused. Things just slowly go by, time, chipping away at you until all that’s left is fragmented pieces; crumbs of a life that had once had grandeur and promise. Slowly she flexed open her palms, looking down at the crescent-shaped marks there. Her arms uncurled from around her legs and she pulled the sleeves of her cardigan up to her elbows exposing deep purple, scarred lines, stark against the contrast of her pale skin.

_ “Maybe I am crazy,”  _ she thought to herself. “ _ I don’t even know where these came from.” _

Betty wrapped herself up once more, letting the forest slowly swallow her as she sunk deeper into her thoughts.

**River Styx**

**(Sweetwater River)**

**Purgatory Level 1**

Jughead stood at the water’s edge, waiting for the Ferryman’s boat to come his way. He relished the chill in the air and the fact that the veil he’d open today would be one leading to Heaven. Luckily for him that was the only veil he dealt with. If someone couldn’t repent after so many changes here at Level one for their sins, he’d just pop them down to Level two. It wasn’t until you reached the last Level that the Gates of Hell were summoned and opened. He didn’t have the stomach for that. 

He always enjoyed watching the crossings. He rooted for every soul that tread down his path. His job was to create situations at times and intervene. He used to do it more, but the population on Earth had reached staggering heights and he simply couldn’t keep up with the numbers. He had been rooting for this one for a while though.

The swishing sound of the water changed. Jughead places his hood back over his head, customary attire for the Shadowmen. He preferred human wear when no one was looking, but now he was on the clock.

As the ferry approached, Jughead walked down towards the banks of the river. To his left over the water stood a large cave, the entrance sealed by dark boulders, the igneous rocks appearing fused together. That was the descent to Level two and where a veil could be opened between levels.

Rather than create an opening in the rocks, today he pulled at a nearby tree, removing an apple from its branches. It was clever really, since the apple represented original sin, that it would also represent the removal of sin as well. Peeling a piece of the red skin from the fruit, a slit appeared in midair, hovering over the river. The ferry stopped its motion and positioned itself underneath.

Onboard, the Ferryman nodded to Jughead, never looking back at his patron. Archie Andrews stood on board, looking mildly confused, but not at all afraid. His eyes were wide and his jaw slack, looking up at the light shining through the opening that appeared overhead. 

Normally he was happy to see a soul moving from Purgatory to Heaven, but today he was ecstatic. Archie had been a decent soul in life and had been dealt a raw deal. Here in Purgatory he remained a positive spirit and a noble friend. His most recent defense of Betty Cooper, a Purgatory resident Jughead had been keeping his eye on, was enough to clean his slate and earn him his wings.

He had sensed the change immediately and had set things in motion; temporarily freezing the scene in Riverdale High and transferring Archie’s soul to the Ferryman’s dock.

Jughead stepped down further to greet him.

“Archie Andrews,” he spoke. “Be not afraid. People will come from east and west and north and south, and will take their places at the feast in the kingdom of God. As you cross, your memories will be restored unto you and life everlasting shall be yours.”

A rush of warmth flew through Archie’s limbs and the shocked stupor on his face disappeared, replaced by a smile and a look of complete ease.

“My parents,” he whispered, looking over at Jughead again. “Will I- will I see them there? Are they-“

Jughead nodded with a small grin, one side of his lips lifting up. He couldn’t always provide good news to this question. Today was a good day.

“You will,” he replied.

Grin wide, Archie moves further up the raft, stepping directly under the light. The light’s brilliance increased tenfold and blocked out all other sight in the woods.

“Go in peace, my brother,” Jughead said as the light gave one big brilliant burst before extinguishing completely, the opening and the ferry gone from sight. About to sigh from a job well done, a noise to his left made his stomach churn.

He turned abruptly to the source to find a blonde, beautiful and pure from what he could tell, one to which he’d been watching carefully the last few weeks, screaming at the river's edge. 

“ _ She can’t see this,” _ he thought to himself. “ _ Only the Shadowmen can see the veil and the ferry.” _

“Archie! Arch! You! Yes, you! Help him!”

Her screams snapped him back into focus. She should not have been able to bare witness to this or even see him. The fact that she could see meant only one thing: Andromalius, was correct and so were his assumptions. Someone was Awakening and she was staring right at him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riverdale is actually Purgatory (why else would so many crazy things happen in one town!) Jughead Jones, Shadowman of purgatory level one has been tasked with finding an Awakened soul, one who the Premier Shadowman says jeopardizes the future of their world. When Jughead discovers Betty Cooper’s soul down by the River Styx he finds all is not as it seems and a final battle between Heaven and Hell is on the verge of breakout.
> 
> *It’s Purgatory so ALL characters are dead.  
*You will find out how they died.  
*Get ready for a ride!

A Cruise Against Elegies by Anne Sexton

  
Oh, love, why do we argue like this?

I am tired of all your pious talk.

Also, I am tired of all the dead.

They refuse to listen,

so leave them alone.

Take your foot out of the graveyard,

they are busy being dead.

Everyone was always to blame:

the last empty fifth of booze,

the rusty nails and chicken feathers

that stuck in the mud on the back doorstep,

the worms that lived under the cat’s ear

and the thin-lipped preacher

who refused to call

except once on a flea-ridden day

when he came scuffing in through the yard

looking for a scapegoat.

I hid in the kitchen under the ragbag.

I refuse to remember the dead.

And the dead are bored with the whole thing.

But you — you go ahead,

go on, go on back down

into the graveyard,

lie down where you think their faces are;

talk back to your old bad dreams.

> **River Styx**
> 
> **Sweetwater River**
> 
> **Level 1- Purgatory**
> 
> Betty had been lost in thought for some time. She had decided to try and clear her mind, to meditate. The episodes of gray and ash had been getting more frequent and quite frankly, she was afraid. 
> 
> The moss on which she sat felt soft and damp under her fingertips. She stroked it back and forth for a long while, reveling in the smooth grass while trying to make sense of her thoughts.
> 
> She was Betty, of that she was positive. And her mother, for better or for worse, was Alice. What she couldn’t recall was whether she had a father. She could picture a shadow of a man in a distant family portrait on a mantle, but not the one in her current home. She tried to bring his face to the forefront of her mind but it was blocked. She could also almost picture another girl, a sister maybe?
> 
> Nothing was making sense. And where did Fred and Jason come from? Had she imagined them or met them in a dream? She could picture breakfast with Fred so clearly, him tossing a Pop-Tart at Archie’s head when he said the best thing about Veronica was that she was hot.
> 
> Maybe Veronica was right. Maybe she was crazy. A change in the stillness around her brought Betty out of her thoughts. To her right, fallen leaves crunched, signaling she was no longer alone. Leaning forward past a neighboring tree trunk, Betty saw a man dressed oddly in long robes walking down towards the river.
> 
> Scanning the shoreline where he was headed, she noticed a small raft had appeared almost out of nowhere. The captain was cloaked similarly to the man on shore. “_ Maybe this is some type of cult worship or coven, _” Betty thought, pushing back further against her tree.. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and something in her gut told her being seen would not end well for her.
> 
> Looking behind her, Betty decided she could escape unnoticed. Slowly, she rose from the ground and began to back away from the river. If she had blinked as she turned, sneezed, or focused on a leaf on the ground, she would have been safe. But Betty, being curious, kept her gaze on the river and that’s where she saw him; Archie, her best friend and lifeline, was on that raft.
> 
> Betty stopped her retreat, eyes glued to the sight in front of her. She watched as the robed man on the shoreline spoke and with a stroke of his hand sliced a hole in the sky. She watched as the most beautiful, vibrant light filled the air. She watched as Archie Andrews, the only light in her world, seemed to enter the glow, vanishing into its spark, and the light was extinguished as quickly as it was lit.
> 
> For a moment Betty was immobilized with shock, assuming what she saw was another figment of her imagination, a ruse. She squeezed her hands into fists, her palms stinging with the familiar, delicious pain as her nails pierced her already broken skin. Betty closed her eyes and focused on the sting, relying on it to draw her from her delusion. 
> 
> _ “This is not real,” _she told herself.
> 
> She could feel the warmth gathering in her palms, crimson drips cascading from the tiny chasms into the crunchy foliage beneath her, anchoring her to the ground. Tentatively, she opened her eyes. The air was still crisp. The river still flowed. The man in the robes was still at the water’s edge and the raft from earlier was slowly fading into a light mist.
> 
> Panic seized her, gripping her chest. Acid burned a trail up her throat and she pushed back the need to empty the contents of her stomach.
> 
> _ “This is real,” _ she whispered to herself. _ “This is all real.” _
> 
> That one utterance brought about a harsh reality; Archie was gone. Betty’s jaw went slack and a groan of desperation left her lips. Her feet began propelling her forward towards the shoreline where she last saw her friend standing.
> 
> At the bank of the river, Betty frantically searched for any sign of his presence but found none, just an empty river and the man in dark robes, the hood now removed, looking at her with fear and shock in his eyes.
> 
> “Archie! Arch! Hey you!! Yes, you! Help him!” she yelled.
> 
> The robed figure lurched forward and Betty’s steps began to retreat. His presence, now closer than she realized created an odd feeling inside her, like when you feel as if you’re being watched. For each step she retreated, his advanced double until finally he within arm’s length.
> 
> “Who are you,” Betty said, voice barely a whisper. “Where is Archie?”
> 
> Raising a hand over her face, the cloaked figure said, “Somnum,” and Betty’s world went black.
> 
>   
  

> 
> **Grover Fields High School**
> 
> **Bloomingdale, New York**
> 
> **Earth**
> 
> **6 months prior**
> 
> “Yo! Andrews!” Archie turned from his locker towards his friend and teammate, Reggie Mantle, who was strutting down the hallway as though he was a model on a catwalk. Archie grinned up at his friend and reached his arm up, both of them engaging in what was known as their ‘Bro handshake’.
> 
> “So, is it true?” Reggie asked Archie, leaning further into his locker. “If it is, I’m pissed I had to hear about it from Dilton, that tool.”
> 
> Archie thought he knew what Reggie was referring to, but his friend dropping Dilton’s name confirmed it for him.
> 
> “Dilton’s such a pansy voyeur. Why is he always lurking around Fox Forest and the make-out point alone?” Archie replied.
> 
> Reggie’s grin widened and he nodded, raising his arm up to high five Archie.
> 
> “So it is true then! You did bag Nancy last night! Ha!” Reggie yelled, half the hall hearing his excitement.
> 
> “Reg, c’mon man. It’s not like that,” Archie said with a shake of his head, voice low trying to avoid the attention they were garnering.
> 
> “Andrews,” Reggie sighed, “You really are the one true ‘panty-dropper’, Bro. We gotta put that on the back of your jersey and your number can match all your conquests.”
> 
> “Reggie,” Archie sighed, finally opening his locker and grabbing his world history book. “I like Nancy, Bro. Please don’t make this about a conquest.”
> 
> “Archie, you seriously cannot get ‘wifed’ while you are in high school. Girlfriends are like chains, man. They don’t let you have any fun. Besides, the boys look up to your epicness. They want to name you captain.”
> 
> A look of complete confusion washed over Archie’s face. “Wait. They want to name me captain because I slept with Nancy?”
> 
> Reggie pursed his lips together, unsure if Archie was playing dumb or if his friend really was that thick.
> 
> “This isn’t about Nancy. No one gives a shit about Nancy, Arch. They call you the conquistador, Bro. Eleven girls, all high profile, since sophomore year. That’s legend.”
> 
> Archie’s stomach sank a bit. He had wanted to be captain of the football team since he had put on a practice jersey Freshman year, but being chosen captain because of his body count? What would his father say? Had there really been that many girls?
> 
> his had all began as a way to feel something, to fill the void a year and a half ago when his parents had been killed. Unbeknownst to Archie, Andrews Construction had been on a downward spiral. His parents had smiled at him at dinner, bought him gifts for his birthday and Christmas, and had painted the picture of a successful company but nothing was further from the truth.
> 
> A few years back, Archie’s father, Fred, had to fire an unruly employee, FP Jones. He often showed up to work intoxicated or was found passed out on the job. His father had been unaware that FP had been part of a local gang, The Serpents. Of course, FP had painted a very different picture than what had happened in reality and The Serpents demanded retribution for his actions. Though it could never be officially proven, they sabotaged each and every worksite that Andrews Construction was hired for until no one wanted to employ Fred any longer.
> 
> To keep their family afloat, his mother, who hadn’t used her law or business degrees since Archie was born, began using Andrews Construction alongside Fred to launder money for Lodge Industries under businessman and crime boss, Hiram Lodge. Times were desperate. Once in play, they began to restabilize financially until The Serpents got word of their new game. They demanded a payoff to keep quiet and when Fred had refused, Tall Boy, a loose cannon of a member who took it as an insult, took matters into his own hands.
> 
> It was a Tuesday night and it was raining. Archie had been home practicing the guitar when the police came to speak with him. His father had been shot. In the altercation his mother had tried to intervene, rushing at the assailant. In the struggle for the gun, she’d also been shot. Neither had survived.
> 
> The words dripped off of Archie like ice cream off a cone. Neither had survived. Thinking back, He remembered the sheriff asking if there was anyone they could call. _ “Call my Dad,” _ had been his first thought. With lungs screaming for oxygen, his heart screamed for his family. Realizing it was impossible, he managed one utterance; “My Grandma. She lives nearby.”
> 
> That month Archie packed up his whole house, his whole life, and moved in with her. She was loving and familiar, and while he was lucky to have her, there was still a void in his life. That’s where this all began. Sex filled the void, a temporary high. The more girls he encountered, the more he could forget, if only momentarily. It wasn’t fair to them, and he didn’t mean to be a jerk, but life wasn’t fair. Of this, Archie knew first hand.
> 
> “Andrews!” Reggie’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “I asked for details, Bro. Was she good?”
> 
> Shutting his locker and shouldering his backpack, Archie began to walk away from his teammate. 
> 
> “You know I don’t kiss and tell, Reg,” he tossed behind him, heading down the now vacant hall to class.
> 
> “You’re too good, Andrews!” Reggie yelled after him. “If I were you I’d have my own blog!”
> 
>   

> 
> **Jones Dwelling**
> 
> **Riverdale **
> 
> **Purgatory-Level 1**
> 
> Jughead had carried her back to his home near the riverbank where their paths had crossed. Now, she lay on top of the covers of his bed, a blanket tossed over her to keep her warm. He could choose to reawaken her at any moment, but he preferred to watch her sleep. In sleep, she looked peaceful, calm, but her features didn’t slacken or lose their rigidity. She was so guarded, but for what purpose?
> 
> She was puzzling to him. He could see no sin for which she needed to repent for, yet here she was, stuck in Purgatory nonetheless. Her soul shone clear and pure, a light as vibrant and strong as Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. It was fitting, really, as seriousness was etched across her features, even in her sleep. With a vital force this clear she should have passed on to Heaven long ago, but here she was, in all her beauty, golden hair framing her face like a halo, stuck in the limbo that is Purgatory.
> 
> Poised on the edge of his bed, he couldn’t help but glide a finger down her cheek, luxuriating in the feeling of her soft skin. He skimmed a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger, twisting the silk back and forth for a moment before tucking it behind her ear. She was beautiful, ethereal. He hadn’t been struck by a woman this way in over 400 years. His brethren, who took full advantage of the carnal delights of Purgatory had often called him a waste of a Shadowman. 
> 
> His fingertips slid down the pathway between her wrist and thumb, tracing the deep purple cut lines healing there. So much pain. While faded, he could still feel it clinging to her. What could cause such a pure soul to put themselves through such harrowing suffering? He briefly resisted the urge to place a kiss over each discoloration.
> 
> Jughead laughed to himself and pulled his hand back, chastising himself for his foolhardy behavior. She was Awakening, he reminded himself. He couldn’t get attached because soon, her entire existence would be eradicated. If he was following protocol it should have been done already, the moment she made her presence known by the River Styx. Still, something caused him to pause.
> 
> Rising from the bed, Jughead took a few steps back, close enough to overpower her if needed, but far enough back not to seem intimidating. He wanted to be prepared for the possible onslaught she’d unleash once she woke. Squaring his shoulders, he raised his palm and uttered, “Expergo.”
> 
> ————
> 
> Betty had been having the oddest dream. She was hovering over an emerald field of moss and grass, flowers blooming at her touch and dandelion puffs landing on her fingertips as if to say a gentle hello.
> 
> Abruptly, the warm sun in the clearing faded to dusk and then to darkness. A deep navy and purple hue blanketed the sky and pinpricks of stars stretched out as far as the eye could see, twinkling through the celestial sphere.
> 
> Betty had never seen anything more beautiful and natural in her lifetime and she reached out her fingers to touch the tiny luminaries. At her touch each one jingled with a different tone, creating a beautiful nighttime symphony. At her giggle, the stars sprung wings and the jingles turned to the sweet song of millions of cicadas, all singing for her.
> 
> As fast as they began, one by one, they took flight, leaving the sky barren again before the darkness faded and the sun returned, once again returning the brilliant green verdure back under her toes.
> 
> Smiling at the memory, Betty sighed, waiting for the moment Alice would walk through her bedroom door and drain the relaxed state she was in from her body. At least it wouldn’t be long and then she could see Archie.
> 
> “Archie!” 
> 
> Betty’s eyes shot open as she remembered her encounter down at Sweetwater River earlier in the day. She was in a bed, but it was definitely not her own. She clenched her fists, this time not for the biting pain, but in preparation to fight. Tossing back the heavy blanket from atop her body, she rose to her knees and spun around to scan the room, her eyes stopping on a new, but familiar face; the man from the river.
> 
> Scooting her back against the wall, she placed her palms flat against the bedspread.
> 
> “Who are you? What do you want with me? Where’s Archie?” Betty yelled, her series of questions causing the stranger's lip to lift before he spoke, his voice warm and not intimidating as she had expected it to be.
> 
> “Do you have a preferred order in which I should answer you? Or just start from the top?” he teased, pulling up a chair to sit near the bed so as not to seem threatening.
> 
> Betty, still guarded, set her jaw hard at his attempt at humor.
> 
> “Where. Is. Archie?” she asked again, punctuating each word with a hard stare.
> 
> Jughead sighed and removed the knit hat he wore. She had to admit it was better than the hood, but still, without it he was rather good looking. A single curl falling down into his face as he spoke. In his robes, she had thought him older, but now in this light he seemed not much older than her.
> 
> “If I tell you about Archie, do you promise you will let me finish and you won’t freak out?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, challenging her to say no.
> 
> “I don’t owe you anything,” Betty spay back. “I sure as hell don’t need to make you any promises.”
> 
> Jughead sighed and shrugged as if to say, “Then I can’t help you.”
> 
> Biting her lip hard, but blew out a frustrated puff of air before tossing her arms up in frustration.
> 
> “Fine! I promise I won’t freak out! Now, where is Archie?”
> 
> Jughead pulled the chair on which he sat closer to the bed, anticipating her reaction to what he was about to say.
> 
> “Archie is gone,” he murmured, low and even, his voice soft and calm. “He’s repented and his soul is at peace.”
> 
> Betty looked at him incredulously and coughed out a laugh.
> 
> “You make it sound like he… like he’s…” she began, pausing only as she noted Jughead nodding his head in the affirmative to her words.
> 
> “No. He’s not dead. He can’t be. Did you? You killed him! Oh my God!” Betty yelled, the bile and panic once again rising up in her throat, suffocating her. She pushed back further against the wall using the pressure to lift herself upright, standing on his bed, arms outstretched and accusing.
> 
> “Why? Why would you do that?! He was so good. So good.”
> 
> Betty paused and eyes wide locked gazes with his.
> 
> “You’re a serial killer. You think you’re helping them or, releasing them to be at peace. Well, let me tell you…”
> 
> Betty was unable to finish telling him anything. Tired of her rant, and amused by her gumption, Jughead raised his arm and muttered, “Silentium conligo.”
> 
> Betty’s entire body became stiff and her jaw locked. Unable to move and unable to speak, she began to fall forward, only the frantic look in her eyes giving away her terror. Before she could hit the mattress, Jughead’s arms had stopped her descent. He carefully laid her down on his mattress, his eyes meeting hers, trying to convey with a look that she was fine. After he was sure she was comfortable, he sat once again on the edge of the bed next to her.
> 
> “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. “You must be very confused right now as to what is happening. I think deep down you may even already know. Archie is dead. And yes, he was a good person. And no, I did not kill him. I helped him pass on from here to Heaven. He is with Fred and Jason now, basked in light and eternal life.”
> 
> As she spoke, silent salty tears leaked from the corners of Betty’s eyelids and cascaded down her cheeks, pooling at the crease of her neck. Grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the droplets from her face and neck, resisting the urge to bring the salty liquid up to his lips.
> 
> “My name is Jughead. Jughead Jones. I watch over this area here… Riverdale. I help people when it’s time to cross over into their afterlife. People like Archie.”
> 
> As he pocketed the handkerchief again, he placed a hand on top of hers and spoke, “Exsolvo,” releasing Betty from her silence and her hold. 
> 
> She quickly sat up and gathered herself, knees to her chest and inhaled large, gulping breaths of air, trying to digest his words. Archie was gone. Archie was dead Betty’s whole body began to tremble, arms quaking like tree limbs in a storm. Her chest constricted and her lungs felt as if she were submerged in quicksand. The feeling was asphyxiating and she began to gasp for more air.
> 
> Jughead’s hands came up to her face, tilting her chin up to force her eyes to meet his.
> 
> “Stay with me now,” he coached her. “Breath in and out. Long and slow.”
> 
> Betty inhaled on his inhale and she exhaled on his exhale, willing her body to recalibrate and relax. She closed her eyes tight, focusing just on her breathing, relieved as it began to even out. 
> 
> After a few moments, she felt herself again and dared to open her eyes. A pair of piercing blue ones, deep and soft stared back at hers, much closer than she was used to. 
> 
> “You have beautiful eyes,” she whispered, unsure from where the confession came.
> 
> “Thank you,” Jughead replied, small grin spreading across his face. “I’m glad you seem better now, Betty. I know this must be hard to understand, to say the least, but…”
> 
> Jughead paused in his speech, his arms shooting out to grab Betty’s forearms as her jaw went slack, dropped down in a silent scream and her eyes blew open wide again.
> 
> She looked on in horror as the framework of his house began to smoke and melt, the flames and ash coating his body and causing his skin to pucker and boil under its whip. Traces of wind began to flicker in as well, blowing the ash around the room and filling her lungs with a sulphuric smell.
> 
> Betty lurched forward, grabbing onto the collar of the flannel shirt he wore, screwing her eyes shut tightly and shaking her head back and forth.
> 
> “Make it stop! The burning! Please make it stop!” she cried, her voice thick with tears and trepidation. 
> 
> “Betty! What’s happening? Stay with me!” Jughead urged, pulling her closer and laying his forehead against hers. “Everything is fine. You are fine.”
> 
> As the smell of smoke vanished and the heat left her skin, Betty slowly opened her eyes again, finding Jugheads deep blue pools once again close to hers, sad and full of concern. Slowly she pulled back from his touch and sniffled a bit shyly.
> 
> “Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze no longer able to meet his. “I- that, that happens to me sometimes. I’m not really sure why… or what… I think I may be crazy.”
> 
> Jughead ran his fingers down the side of her cheek and into her hair, speaking softly and sincerely. He was inexplicably drawn to her and could sense something under the surface, something he could not yet put his finger on.
> 
> “You’re not crazy, Betty. At least no more crazy than everyone else in Riverdale. I can promise you that,” Jughead laughed, earning a small smile from her.
> 
> Betty dropped her gaze to her lap and played with her cuticles. The small smile that had found her lips began to fade and she began to dig at her nail beds harder until his palm came to rest over hers, ceasing her unconscious actions.
> 
> “What is it?” Jughead questioned, sensing something festering in the forefront of her mind.
> 
> Betty smiled a small, wry smile, dropping her hands lower into her lap and rubbing them against her thighs before looking up at the man before her.
> 
> “You said I’m not crazy, but I have to be. There’s no other explanation,” she stammered.
> 
> “No other explanation for what?” he asked, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze.
> 
> “For why I see fire and ash. For why I see the world bubbling and melting away into black. For why…” she paused, sucking her lip between her teeth, another tear cascading down her cheek. 
> 
> “Jughead,” she said, voice no higher than a whisper and warbled from the tears that were rising again. “I think… it’s crazy, I know, but I think I’m dead.”
> 
>   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr! @likemereckless
> 
> Thanks to @jandjsalmon for her editing!


	3. Chapter 3

The Moon and the Yew Tree by Sylvia Plath

This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary

The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.

The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God

Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility

Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.

Separated from my house by a row of headstones.

I simply cannot see where there is to get to.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,

White as a knuckle and terribly upset.

It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet

With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.

Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky --

Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection

At the end, they soberly bong out their names.

The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.

The eyes lift after it and find the moon.

The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.

Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.

How I would like to believe in tenderness -

The face of the effigy, gentled by candles,

Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering

Blue and mystical over the face of the stars

Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,

Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews,

Their hands and faces stiff with holiness.

The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild.

And the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence.

**  
Oradell, Connecticut**

**Earth**

**2 years prior**

Alice Cooper sat at the rickety wooden desk closest to the windows at the Oradell Oracle, the local newspaper she and her husband Hal had operated for the past sixteen years. While it would never be The New York Times, it was still theirs. Controlling the news in a small town like Oradell also came with secrets - and with secrets, came power.

“Betty dear,” Alice spoke, momentarily pausing her typing on the screen in front of her. “Did you finish all of your homework yet?”

Sixteen-year-old Betty Cooper looked up from her chemistry book, cheeks momentarily flushing and pupils widening in panic. Concealed in the pages of her chemistry text was a worn copy of Ireland’s Immortals, a text of comprehensive research into Irish myths.

“Yeah, Mom,” she sighed. “I even finished my project for English Lit class that isn’t due for another three weeks.”

Alice nodded, pleased with Betty’s progress. Alice took Betty’s studies very seriously. In fact, Alice took everything Betty did very seriously.

“Good. Now, if your homework is all wrapped up, go change in the back and head out for your run. I have a meeting in a few minutes and you had Twizzlers today. I can see the wrapper sticking out of your bag, dear,” Alice chastised.

Leaning over the chair where she sat, Betty crammed the wrapper further down into the pocket of her bag, hoping Alice wouldn’t inspect any further to find the KitKat wrapper concealed below.

“I take it you have your gym bag with you?” Alice questioned, removing the glasses she had perched on the tip of her nose.

Betty nodded, throat dry and tight from the past three hours of silence. “Ye- Yeah, I have my gear with me.”

“Perfect,” Alice smiled. “Change, run, and then head home. There's Cobb salad in the fridge for dinner and Chic should be home tonight as well.”

Betty cringed internally at the thought. Chic was the nephew of one of Alice’s secret sources. He was attending Hartford University nearby and was living in their basement apartment free of charge. In all honesty, Betty had always been a bit creeped out by his presence; the way he stared at her as he bit into his food, the slow, deviant grin that would trace its way across his face, only to be replaced with a hard stare moments later, and his late-night comings and goings. Being home alone with Chic was very low on her list of things she’d like to do that night.

“Sure, Mom,” Betty replied, offering a phony half smile, before heading to the back to change into her sweats. At a young, Betty had learned that it was better to abide by her parents rules than to deal with the consequences. Her family held her to impossibly high standards for her entire life and she had found ways to cope.

At fourteen, Betty had mistakenly tried to rebel against Alice and Hal. While all of her friends were wearing makeup, kissing cute boys, and reading Teen Magazine, Betty was like Rapunzel, locked up in her tower and kept from the outside world.

On a gorgeous May evening, some of her friends, Kevin and Josie, were headed down to The Twilight, the local theater in town. Betty knew her mother would never let her go, especially since it was an R rated film being shown. Her parents were going in to work late, laying out the new edition of The Oracle. She slipped her pajamas over her clothes and kissed them goodbye. 

No sooner were they down the block than Betty headed out the back and around the corner, meeting Josie and Kevin there. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so free. She laughed through the film, inhaled the sweet spring air, and even tried a swipe of Josie’s passion fruit lip gloss which she told her to keep. They shared snacks, tied Kevin’s shoelaces together when he fell asleep, and threw popcorn at the cute guys from science class. It was nice to feel normal for once and to act her age.

When the film ended, Betty headed home and snuck back into bed, her parents still working for probably another few hours.

The next morning at breakfast, Betty sat quietly, listening to her father rant about women in politics when her mother entered the kitchen holding Betty’s jeans from the prior night. From the pocket, she had pulled lip gloss and a ticket stub.

“Care to explain?” Alice asked with a quirk of her brow.

Betty dropped her gaze and looked down at her poached egg.

“It was just a movie with Jose, Mom. And that’s Josie’s lipgloss, not mine. I held it because she didn’t have pockets.”

Alice stepped closer and showed the offending items to Hal.

“It’s an R rated movie, Betty. It’s filth, that’s what it is. You snuck out to see a dirty film with that no good McCoy girl, wearing makeup and then were going to lie to us? Were there boys there, Betty?” 

Alice folded her arms across her chest and hardened her stare.

“Just Kevin, Mom. That’s all,” Betty whispered.

Hal had been silent and Alice looked over at him, urging him with her eyes to do something about the situation. Rising from the table, Hal walked over to Betty and without so much as a moment's hesitation, backhanded her across the cheek.

Betty’s head snapped back at the blow, completely stunned and taken aback at the contact. It stung and her lip tasted like copper, probably bleeding from the force of the contact.

Tossing Betty a look of disgust, Alice threw the ticket stub and lip gloss in the trash, turning to head back upstairs.

“From now on you come with your father and me to The Oracle when we work late. I don’t care if you sleep on the floor. I won’t have my daughter traipsing around town and whoring it out with the local misfits.”

Now, two years later, nothing had changed. Laying up her pink trainers, Betty tied a final tight knot in both and placed a thick headband over the front of her hair, holding back the small wisps that didn’t make it to the elastic fasten securely in the back.

Heading back out front she offered a small wave to Alice who muttered, “At least three miles, Betty,” before heading out into the streets.

No sooner did Betty leave than Alice began to work, drawing each shade down over the front windows, shielding The Oracle from prying eyes. She shut down her computer and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of Macallan Rare Cask Whiskey. She poured herself a drink and sat down on one of the office couches to await her guest, placing her glass down only when she heard a tell-tale knock at the back door.

“Sierra,” Alice smiled, greeting her old friend and current Oradell Mayor, Sierra McCoy. “Come, have a seat.”

“Alice. Thanks for seeing me so late. I appreciate you staying tonight,” Sierra said, demurely taking a seat on the office couch, accepting the glass of whiskey Alice passed her way.

“I know this isn’t a social call or we’d be having dinner down at Primavera’s,” Alice joked. “So, let’s cut to the chase, shall we? What do you need from Hal and me?”

Sierra took a large gulp of her whiskey and smirked at her over the glass. Both women got along so well because they cut right to the chase and had a low bullshit tolerance.

“I need Keller out of the Sheriff’s office,” Sierra confessed, pouring a bit more whiskey into her glass, before twirling the crystal around with her wrist, making slow small circles in the air.

Alice leaned forward and scrunched up her brow, her silence indicating that Sierra should continue with her explanation.

“This town has gone soft, Alice. Tom has let too much go by and let too many people get away with minor indiscretions. They believe they are above the law, but now I am the law. There’s so much sin in Oradell. The family feeling is fading around here and modern times are seeping in. We need a sheriff with a backbone.”

Alice considered what she had said and honestly couldn’t disagree. 

Crossing one leg over the other and sitting back further into the couch, Alice bit her knuckle and considered the hard stare on Mayor McCoy’s face. 

“What would you have me do, Si Si?” Alice asked, using her old high school nickname, hoping it conveyed she was game for whatever she needed.

Sierra quietly opened her purse and took out an envelope, handing it to Alice. Slicing open the seal, Alice glanced at the photographs she held in hand before looking back up at Mayor McCoy.

“Are these real?” Alice asked, shock evident across her face. “Is this true?”

“It’s real if you print it,” Sierra explained, raising her glass up to clink against Alice’s.

Raising hers in return, Alice clinked against the other tumbler carefully before sipping her own drink.

“I have to hand it to you, Sierra. You are a mastermind and it’s always a trip causing chaos with you. Bottoms up.”

**Jones Dwelling**

**Riverdale **

**Purgatory-Level 1**

“Jughead,” she said, voice no higher than a whisper and warbled from the tears that were rising again. “I think… it’s crazy, I know, but I think I’m dead.”

Outside, the sky darkened as the sun dematerialized behind the accumulating puffs of gray clouds that had suddenly sprung into existence. Tiny droplets of water began to tap the windowsills and create a pitter-patter pattern on the rooftop.

He hadn’t meant to make it rain, but her confession had surprised him and opened up an emotional floodgate, literally. She truly was Awakening and he was sworn to annihilate her. 

Jughead didn’t say anything for a moment and Betty let him gather his thoughts, his silence bringing all the confirmation she needed. Oddly, she wasn’t upset or afraid. She just...was.

“Jughead,” she prompted after a moment. “You don’t have to answer me. I- I know it. I can feel it. I just don’t understand what this place is,” Betty explained, gesturing around in the air with her left hand.

“I saw Archie walk into the light and it was,” she paused, inhaling deeply and remembering the beacon of light by the water, “so beautiful and all I see is darkness and ash.”

Betty stared up at the skylight overhead, wringing her hands together in her lap. She knew what she needed to ask, and was prepared for the worst, but, as they say, ignorance is bliss. She thought for a moment about just letting things be, but the investigator in her won out.

“Is this- are we in Hell? Is the Devil looking over my shoulder as we speak?”

Jughead bit his lip and shook his head back and forth slowly, trying to decide how much to reveal to her. She’d remember everything soon enough anyway. 

“No, Betty. You’re not in Hell. I don’t even think Hell would be able to handle you. Your soul is too pure. Also, Lucifer doesn’t actually  _ rule  _ Hell. He was just banished to its fiery depths.”

Betty twisted her lips together, processing all this new information. “So, this isn’t Heaven and it isn’t Hell. Does that mean I’m stuck in limbo?”

Jughead sat back a bit sensing she no longer needed his close proximity for comfort. 

“Welcome to Purgatory, Betty Cooper. I’m Jughead Jones, Purgatory Level 1 Shadowman, and I’ll be your cruise director for the next, oh… infinite number of days.”

Betty chuckled and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear, shifting so her legs were stretched out beside her across his bedspread, one arm helping to hold her body upright. 

Jughead watched Betty with growing admiration, the rain outside slowing as his mind began to clear again. 

“You know, for someone who just confirmed they are dead and stuck in the netherworld, you’re pretty calm.”

Grinning bashfully, Betty rose from the bed to look out the window, stretching her arms above her head and sighing at the tiny pops of tension that left her spine, her t-shirt rising to expose a small expanse of skin.

“Maybe you can borrow some of my chill, Jughead. I find out that  _ I’m _ dead and  _ you _ freak out and make it rain.”

He huffed out an abrupt laugh at her audacity. He hadn’t been teased in hundreds of years by anyone other than his older brethren and frankly, their jokes were a bit dated. Subconsciously, he reached his hand forward and traced his pointer finger across the bit of warm lower back that was exposed, causing her to turn towards him, lowering her arms back down slowly.

“Sorry- I,”

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, moving around the small room to look at old knick-knacks and books he had scattered about.

“So,” Betty exhaled. “Do you know how it happened? How I died? Why am I stuck here instead of somewhere else?”

He could tell from the quake in her voice that while she had been strong throughout these revelations, she was shaken from the events of the day. Of course, he knew how she died. It was part of the curse of Purgatory. He helped carry all their pain. But, he didn’t think telling her would be the best choice at the moment.

Betty’s eyes drifted to the piles of text on a bedside table. She dragged her thumb down the old worn leather binding, smiling that it still felt soft against her skin. Lifting the cover she examined the title, written in a language she couldn’t decipher.

“It says,  Gospel of the Lots of Mary, ” Jughead explained watching her trace the letters with her fingernails. “It’s written in Coptic, a very old language using parts of the Greek Alphabet.

She grinned, still examine the text, and let out a small giggle. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just I’m in Purgatory, touching a Gospel of Mary with an angel? Demon? Who reads Coptic, whatever language that is, but also seems to be human. I’m feeling slightly insignificant at the moment.”

Jughead smiled broadly before grasping her hands and whispering, “Cognosco.”

“There, now we are even.” He dropped her hands and sat back in his chair, spreading his legs wide and crossing his arms over his chest, eyes gesturing towards the book again.

Betty glanced down and saw the same Coptic characters, but this time they made sense.

"The Gospel of the lots of Mary, the mother of the Lord Jesus Christ, she to whom Gabriel the Archangel brought the good news… Holy shit, Jughead! I can read Coptic now,” Betty snickered, biting her lip at his amused gaze.

Laughing back at her excitement he teased, “For someone stuck in Purgatory, you have no problem saying Holy Shit in the same sentence as Gospel of Mary.”

Lifting page after page carefully, Betty examined the words and intricate drawings in the text, rejoicing in the idea that she was touching a text that existed so long ago. The silence in the room grew between them as she gave him time to think about what she had asked, as she waited for his response. He, too, knew she was waiting.

“I can’t tell you, Betty,” he explained. “It would be too much of a shock to hear about your passing. I’m not sure how your system would react. Besides, you’re going to start to remember soon enough.”

Betty closed the text before moving to rest on the edge of the desk in front of him.

“Does everyone remember at some point? Is that the next step in the crossing over process?”

Debating how much more to reveal for right now, Jughead replied, “No. No, it’s not. People don’t know they are in Purgatory here. People don’t realize they are dead. People don’t remember how they died. Just you, Betty.”

“Just me,” she repeated, using the toe of her sneaker to trace invisible shapes on the floor beneath. “Of course, I can’t just be a  _ normal  _ dead person.”

Jughead huffed out a laugh, shaking his head slightly. His eyes, shown with amusement. “I know we just met, but I get the feeling that not much is  _ normal _ about you, Betty Cooper.”

“Well,  _ Shadowman _ ,” she drawled sarcastically, “don’t tell Alice Cooper that. She likes me to be the picture of perfection.” 

Betty pushes her simple silver bracelet back down towards her wrist, jaw tightening at the mention of her mother.

“See, that’s the thing I’m curious about. You’re aware and so pure. Yet, you’re still here. You excite me, Betty. We don’t get too many mysteries around these parts.”

Betty raised an eyebrow and clucked her tongue in her cheek. 

“I’m so glad my being dead helps get your yayas out, Jughead.”

Stepping forward he raised his hands, eyes widening in explanation and defense.

“I didn’t mean it like that-“

Laughing at his discomfort, Betty interrupted.

“I’m teasing you again. You seem pretty mysterious to me too, you know.”

Jughead sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his knit hat falling to the floor beside him. He began to pace back and forth, feet treading over the worn floorboards as if this were a familiar task.

“You’re mysterious, Betty, because in the history of creation you are only the second soul to be aware of your surroundings and the first caused a lot of trouble.”

Biting her lip, stomach once again feeling the churning of acid at his tone. Wringing the fastening clip on her bracelet, Betty asked, “Who was the first.”

“Ever heard of Dante Alighieri?” he replied.

Betty nodded in response. “So his stories were written from truth, a memoir so to speak?”

“Not exactly, no. They were greatly embellished which led to our creation, the Shadowmen, overseeing things here in Limbo and setting protocol for any soul who should follow the same path as Dante.”

Betty’s breath came a little quicker, such a slight change she probably couldn’t sense it, but he could. Did she sense the danger she was in? Was their banter and game finally ending he wondered? He watched her readjust her bracelet for the third time in the past few minutes and shift her heels back in forth on the floor. Maybe he should come clean, he thought. Maybe he should let her know what was at stake. The tension in the room grew thick and stifling. It was Betty who caved first, unable to handle the tautness any longer.

“What’s the protocol for Awakening, Jughead?” she asked, taking a slight step back when his piercing blue gaze caught her eyes.

“Extermination, Betty.”

**Heaven**

**One hundred years after Creation**

**Heavenly Council Sentencing**

The angels floated adrift, suspended in place by His grace. It was all Lucifer’s doing, but somehow it seemed many would pay for the indiscretions of one.

Amduscius, who took unicorn form had been cast out with Lucifer a fortnight ago. Lucifer and Amduscius had been banished to Hell, forced to endure eternal fire for their defiance against God.

Now, the fate of Gusion was to be determined along with his loyal friends, Gadreel, Penemuel, Naomah, and Reagan and Gusion felt it was all his fault.

Being himself was both a blessing and a curse. As an angel, grace manifests differently in each, bestowing them with gifts that are unique to each individual. For Gusion, his became his undoing. 

Gusion’s gift was that of sight. He could see all things, past, present, and future, and could give meaning to all questions asked of him. He was known for his honor and dignity and had always served Heaven well.

When Lucifer had planned his coup against the heavens, he had gone to Gusion for his sight. Gusion, time and time again, told Lucifer that God would always win and his efforts were for naught.

Upon Lucifer’s banishment, treason charges had been brought against Gusion as well, and worse his friends would also pay the price if culpable.

“Gusion, have you anything to say on your own behalf?” the Archangel Michael questioned his comrade.

Gusion, released from him temporary hold, fluttered to the ground in front of his brothers and sisters.

“Aye,” he spoke. “I am sworn to speak of what I see. I do not hold back and do not prefer myself. I gave Lucifer no help, nor did my brothers and sisters. I simply spoke the true word: that he would not win in a battle against God. In no pathway did he ever win.”

Michael turned to hush the whispers of the other angels present. 

“You say you adhere to the word of God, but did your words not allow Lucifer to continually change his course, looking for other alternatives pathways to power?”

Gusion sighed and let his wings rest. He could already sense that he was to be made an example of, along with Gadreel, Penemuel, Naomah, and Reagan.

“Lucifer was never to win, Michael. Not in any scenario.”

Michael nodded and Gusion and turned towards his fellow angels on the council. They chattered only momentarily before he turned back around, facing the accused once again.

“Gusion, seer and prophesizer, you are henceforth cast out of God’s heavenly government and his place of authority. As you did not seek power in Heaven, you and your brethren shall be sentenced to an eternity on Earth, or until you come to an end and return to the Creator. May God watch over you.”

**Earth**

**1,000 years after Creation**

**What is now present day County Clare, Ireland**

Upon his descent from the heavens year ago, Gusion and his brothers and sisters had tried to adjust to a new lifestyle. Life here was hard, full of reparations, frustrations, and disappointments. They at least retained some grace and their powers.

Reagan had lasted the least, infighting wars and violence, eventually finding his way to Hell to help control armies. Naomah had succumbed to lustful delights and become the original prostitute, keen on pleasing. Penemuel’s writings and influence brought about battles and death.

Gadreel had remained his only true friend. Gadreel, who had always called himself God’s helper, was who he confided in.

“Are you sure this is the path you must take, Gusion?” Gadreel asked once more.

“I have seen the future, my friend. The demon Valac will come for me in retaliation from Lucifer. They will find me. Lucifer Morningstar will continue to build his armies and spread sin. Only my heir will bring hope for redemption to the people on Earth.”

Gadreel, nodded and rand a hand down his robes, gripping the fabric tightly and swallowing hard. “I found a wife for you then, my friend. The most noble and pure I could procure.”

“Bring her forth, kind brother, then leave us to get acquainted.”

Gadreel nodded before waving the woman who lingered outside through the door.

“I will not see you again. Will I, friend?” Gadreel stayed, sadly.

As his future wife entered the room, he gazed sadly upon his friend. “No, my brother. You will not.”

Gusion stepped forward carefully, not wanting to scare her.

“Salutations, My Lady. I am ever so honored to wed you as my bride.”

The woman before him, blonde hair and deep, beautiful eyes looked upon him as if she could see through his soul. She smiled, an enigmatic, unreadable grin.

“Future husband,” she greeted him. “To what name do I call you?”

“Gusion, My Lady. Gusion Smith.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We had to get introduced to some angelic figures in this chapter to set up later events. The Bughead love is coming, so sit tight. I love angel/ demon stories and since Riverdale is so messed up, it made sense to me it would actually be purgatory- how else can one place have so many bad things happen at once!
> 
> Thanks @jandjsalmon for editing.  
Follow me on Tumblr for story updates: @likemereckless


	4. Chapter 4

What Will You Do? by Ranier Maria Rilke

What will you do, God, when I die?   
I am your jar (if cracked, I lie?)   
Your well-spring (if the well go dry?)   
I am your craft, your vesture I—   
You lose your purport, losing me.

When I go, your cold house will be   
Empty of words that made it sweet.   
I am the sandals your bare feet   
Will seek and long for, wearily.

Your cloak will fall from aching bones.   
Your glance, that my warm cheeks have cheered   
As with a cushion long endeared,   
Will wonder at a loss so weird;   
And, when the sun has disappeared,   
Lie in the lap of alien stones. 

What will you do, God? I am feared.

**  
Jones Dwelling**

**Riverdale**

**Purgatory- Level 1**

The silence hung thick between them like a woolen blanket; so silent the hum of the electrical currents running through the room’s lighting could be heard giving off a faint buzz.

Since his declaration, neither had budged an inch. The muscles in Jughead’s jaw twitched as he held himself rigidly, not wanting to raise the level of fear he could sense in the room. 

Betty’s features seemed flat and resigned, almost as if she was waiting for him to lash out now, extinguishing her life force and letting her rest.

She broke the silence first.

“Will it hurt? The Extermination?” Betty whispered, grinding her lower lip between her top teeth and glancing down toward the floorboards.

“I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “I’ve never… to anyone before. But I’m not planning on following through.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his and her lip plopped from between her teeth, dark indentations marking the spot where she had almost broken skin.

“You’re not?” Betty questioned, holding his gaze. 

He shook his head slightly, mirroring her position and meeting her eyes. The sky had started to darken, dusk settling in, casting their shadows on the wall.

“Won’t you be reprimanded?” she asked, eyes squinting curiously at him in the dimming light from the window.

“Not if they don’t know you’ve Awakened,” Jughead said matter of factly.

Betty regarded him intensely, teeth once again pinching at her lip. 

“Why would you do that for me, Jughead? You don’t even know me and yet you would put yourself at risk?”

Jughead inhaled and shook his head, reaching one long arm behind his back to grab at his neck, rubbing out some residual tension from the muscle.

“Honestly?” he said, tossing the hand from his neck up into the air. “I don’t know. I just feel…Lately I’ve just had these feelings of foreboding. I can’t quite put my finger on what the gnawing issue is, but it’s been intensifying. Somehow, I feel like you’re connected, whether good or bad, I’m not yet sure, but standing here with you, I’m leaning towards good.”

The wind was knocked out of him as Betty’s body crashed into his, hugging him fiercely as if holding on for dear life. The embrace, which lasted only moments, felt almost too close and too intimate to Jughead. He had not been embraced in centuries and her warmth flooded through him like blood through his veins.

Reluctantly, he gently pushed her back and offered a small smile to ease her embarrassment. 

“It’s getting dark,” he choked out. “You better get home.”

Betty nodded, looking up at him from under her lashes. She didn’t really want to go home and face her mother. How terrible was it that she’d rather be here with the man who was supposed to end her afterlife?

“Will I remember all this tomorrow or will it seem like a dream?”

Jughead placed a large palm on her lower back guiding her to the door. Opening the frame and letting the cooling night air in, he tucked that rogue strand of hair back behind her ear before ushering her out.

“Goodnight, Betty.”

**Oradell, Connecticut**

**Earth**

**2 years prior**

Breaking News: Sheriff Keller Sugar Daddy for Sugarman.

By Alice Cooper

...Keller, 50, was found to be the supply connection for Southside High Teacher, Robert Philips. The two men colluded in drug dealings with local Southside and Oradell High students. Keller provided contraband items and alibis to Phillips for over five years…

Sugarman had help from Sugarmama

By Alice Cooper

...Oradell High teacher, Geraldine Grundy, was convicted of pushing drugs for Phillips onto impressionable teen boys, using relationships of a sexual nature to hook and hold clients…

Mass Murder Inside Local Precinct

By Alice Cooper

...ex-sheriff Thomas Keller along with convicted teachers Geraldine Grundy and Robert Phillips, were found stabbed to death in their holding cells early this morning prior to their transfer to a New York City maximum security facility...

  
  


Alice placed the glass pitcher of orange juice down in the middle of the breakfast table in front of Chic, who was surrounded by a full Sunday spread. Eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, and homemade cinnamon rolls covered the surface from one end to the other. Hal sat back against his chair, sipping his coffee and reading through the Sunday Edition of The Oracle.

Betty and Polly played with their forks, pushing the bits of food on their plates back and forth. Polly was watching her waistline for cheerleading and Betty was sick to her stomach for her friend, Kevin Keller.

“Dad, do you have to read that at the breakfast table?” Betty asked, dropping eyes, a defeated expression gracing her normally perky features.

“It’s the Sunday paper, Betty. Of course I have to read it. Plus, it’s even better when it’s full of good news,” Hal grinned.

Betty’s jaw dropped along with her fork, the silver steel clanging against her plate.

“How can you say that? The headline reads that three people were stabbed to death! One of them was Kevin’s father. Kevin who helps tutor failing students. Kevin who volunteers at the soup kitchen and animal shelter. Kevin who hasn’t been able to eat or sleep in days and has been a mess.”

Chic huffed out a small laugh and looked at Hal, who looked up from his paper and grinned back.

“I can picture that pansy blubbering more over his most recent issue of Soap Opera Digest,” Chic laughed.

Hal’s eyes drifted back towards his paper, the corner of his mouth slightly lifting, and Betty’s hands clenched into tight fists, her muscles tense and angry at their disregard for human life.

“They were human and someone stabbed them. I don’t care what they did. They were serving their time!” Betty yelled, rising from her seat.

Hal folded his paper and glared down at his daughter. 

“They got what they deserved. I applaud whoever had the good sense to end those sinners. This town could use a good purging.”

Alice began to tense in the kitchen. She could see the tightening around Hal’s jaw and the spark in his eye that was all too familiar.

“Betty,” Alice said calmly. “Maybe you should head upstairs and study.”

Ignoring her mother, Betty stood taller.

“This town is what supports this family by purchasing  _ your  _ newspaper! Without those “sinners” we wouldn’t have food on the table. And how hypocritical! You think we are so inno-“

Betty was unable to finish her thoughts. In one blurry swoop, Hal rose from the table and grabbed her forcefully by the ponytail, dragging her towards the staircase.

The speed in which he pulled threw Betty off balance and she fell to the floor, her father still dragging her by her blonde locks.

“Dad, stop! Mom, make him stop!” Polly screamed from the table, eyes wide and tears pooling, her hands covering the terrified look on her face. Her words were drowned out by Betty’s screams.

“Hal!” Alice yelled, running over to the steps, but was tossed away with a backhand across the cheek. Alice backed away in a trance, rubbing her cheek. Betty met her eyes in the realization that this was not the first time her mother had been struck by her father.

With a final fling and the shattering of a photo frame on the side table, Hal flung Betty at the base of the steps.

“You think you’re so high and mighty, Betty! You think you’re better than me? You’re  _ nothing,”  _ Hal spat, eyes wild. “Go to your room. Now! Before I give the paper more news to write about.”

Betty scrambled backward up the steps to keep from turning her back on her father.

“Chic!” Hal yelled. “I need air. Let's go.”

Hal headed out the front door with Chic on his heels. As he passed where Betty crawled up to her room, a sinister grin spread across his face.

“See you later, Betty,” Chic grinned, the icy words sending a chill down her spine.

As the front door slammed, Polly leapt from her chair to run to Betty. Alice, who had remained almost catatonic, put up a handto stop her. 

“Polly, dishes. Betty, to your room.”

“Mom, Betty is-“

“Dishes, Polly!”

Polly paused momentarily, looking down at Betty who nodded at her to do as she was told. Without so much as a glance at her daughters, Alice walked into the living room. 

Betty slowly ambled her way up the steps to her bedroom and sought solace in the thick blankets there. Her head ached, her jaw was tense, and her palms bled. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw things. But, the aftermath would just make things in the Cooper house more severe.

From under her mattress, she pulled out the straight razor she kept hidden there. Pulling up the sleeves on her shirt, Betty found one of the purple blemish lines on her arm. She traced it with her fingertips before tracing it slowly with the blade, hissing as her skin broke open and her blood trickled out.

They weren’t in control of her. She was. They couldn’t cause her pain because pain was her life.

  
  


**Riverdale **

**Purgatory- Level 1**

**Cooper Household**

The blaring alarm woke her from her slumber. Tossing the covers off of her body, Betty perched on the edge of her bed, brain trying to clear the morning fog. She wouldn’t have much time for that before her mother interfered.

“Four, three, two, one…” she whispered and the bedroom door swung open as Alice Cooper appeared.

“Out of bed, Elizabeth. You don’t want to be late,” she chirped, flinging open the shades as usual.

Silently picking out her daughter’s clothing and tossing them on the bed, Alice headed for the bedroom door before turning towards Betty and pausing.

“You seem…” Alice waved her hand around in the air as if she couldn’t find the right word before finally settling on one. “Different.”

Betty swallowed. As her mother had dug through her closet the events of the day prior flooded Betty’s senses.  _ Was it a dream? _ It had to be, but at the same time, it felt so real.

At Alice’s words, Betty glanced up at her mother and cleared her throat. 

“Sorry, Mom. I guess I just didn’t sleep that great last night.”

“Hmm,” muttered Alice, glancing at Betty from head to toe. “I told you no junk food. It’s bad for your skin, sleep, and waistline.”

Betty wanted to scream. She had heard this speech countless times before. She fought off the urge to yell, ‘ _ Starvation doesn’t help you get a great sleep, either! _ ’

“You’re right, Mom. Sorry.”

Alice nodded, satisfied and headed out into the hall. It was only as she left that Betty realized that Alice was here paying for her sins, too. She wondered what her sins were and if she acted this way with Betty when she was alive.

Dragging herself out of bed, Betty began to dress for school. She still wasn’t convinced if the events of the past day had actually happened but there was only one way to find out.

She quickly brushed her teeth in the bathroom and ran a wet brush through her hair, spraying some gel in it to keep the slight curl. Grabbing her backpack she headed downstairs.

“I have yogurt for breakfast,” Alice yelled from the kitchen.

“I’m not hungry, Mom!” Betty yelled back, heading out the front door.

“That’s probably for the best anyway, dear! Pay attention at school!” Alice called back.

As soon as the door was closed, Betty hurdled into a sprint. Dashing across the street she took the steps on the Andrews’ house two at a time before ripping open the door and running into the kitchen.

The kitchen island stopped her trajectory and she slammed her hands into it to stop herself from falling over. 

“Hey, Betty,” came the small sing song voice of a mousy girl she had never seen before. 

“Hey,” Betty shot back, curious about this new development.

“I was hoping you’d be on time. I have that big project due for history class today.”

“Right,” agreed Betty. “Yeah, me too. Hey, where’s Archie,”

The girl scrunched her nose and face up in a curious expression before a knowing smile crossed her face. 

“Good one, Betty.” she laughed. “Archie Clement since I’m doing my ‘living report’ on guerilla warfare? You are too much!”

Betty nodded and grinned back. 

“That’s me. Always too much. Listen, uhhh…” 

As she was about to ask to search the house, the kitchen door flew open again, Veronica Lodge strutting in wearing her trademark heels and a vintage dress, her neck adorned with her favorite pearls.

“Let’s go, bitches. If I’m late Chuck will be pissed we won’t have any time together before class. Ethel, seriously, what are you wearing today?”

With a disgusted huff, Veronica headed back outside where a black car was waiting, Ethel following close on her heels.

“Let’s go, Betty!” Veronica called from the backseat.

“I have to make a stop, V. I’ll meet you guys there!” Betty yelled back.

Hoisting her bag higher onto her back, Betty headed out front and watched her friend’s car head left down Elm Street. When it was out of sight, Betty turned and headed right.

“Isn’t school the other way?” A newly familiar voice called to her and Betty’s heart lept.

Turning back around, Betty saw Jughead leaning up against the side of Archie’s house.

“Spying on me now, are we? Or were you waiting to see if I really was  _ awake?” _ Betty teased, drawing out her last word.

Jughead leaped out from behind his cover, forcibly placing his hand over her lips and his arm around her waist with a wild look in his eyes. Betty, taken aback and frightened jabbered into his hand and struggled against him.

Jughead whispered a quick hiss at her ear before speaking in hushed tones, “Lanuae magicae.” 

Instantaneously they were far from Archie’s home; situated on a large slab of igneous rock with a glorious waterfall beating the rocks and river below, little springs of water drizzling onto the rock on which they stood. If Betty weren’t so shaken by the past few moments this would have been somewhere she’d like to come, especially with a guy as cute as her present company. 

His hands slipped from around her and she spun on the spot to face him.

“What the hell, Jug?” 

Jughead’s eyes quickly scanned the surrounding trees before pulling her down onto the rock beneath them.

“You can’t just go around saying…  _ awake  _ out in the open! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? There are scouts everywhere on Andromalius’ orders!”

Betty looked away sheepishly, feeling foolish about her thoughtless actions and teasing banter. He was right. She understood nothing about what was going on here.

“Who is Andro- Adromus?” she spoke nervously.

The corner is Jughead’s mouth lifted at her fumble. 

“Andromalius. He is the Premiere Shadowmen. The head honcho of Purgatory,” Jughead explained, grasping her hand in his and offering a light squeeze. Using his abilities, he willed her to settle and allowed a wave of calm to wash over her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I never meant to put you in danger,” Betty offered with a squeeze back, her eyes conveying her sincerity to him.

Clearing his throat. Jughead broke the moment. 

“So, I bet you have some questions about this morning?”

“I went over to Archie’s house to see if I was dreaming yesterday. A girl named Ethel was there and she seemed to know who I was. She acted like we were friends. Then Veronica showed up and talked about her boyfriend, Chuck, as if Archie never existed. How does that work?”

Jughead picked up a few tiny pebbles from the stone base on which they sat, tossing the fragments one by one over the edge to be carried down by the flowing water.

“Things and time are different here. When someone crosses, there’s always more souls to filter into their place. People here in Level 1 wind up in a scenario that presents options for change and repentance. To them, they’ve been doing this for all their lives. They are unaware it’s anything but normal. If they repent enough by changing their ways, they move on. If they do not, they are sentenced in the lower levels based on their crimes. You don’t want to descend downward.”

Betty traced the indentations in the rock, enjoying the feel or the warm smooth stone beneath her fingers.

“How long?” Betty asked softly. “How long have I been here.”

Jughead was silent for a moment. He had never actually had a conversation with one of his patrons regarding their death. It was new territory for him and he was treading lightly.

“Six months,” he finally said, examining her facial expressions to gauge her response to the newly divulged information.

Betty nodded before glancing up at him.

“And when did you suspect I… you know,” she said, lowering her voice at the end of her question.

“Six months,” he replied, smiling a bit and looking back down at the stones in his palm.

“Why didn’t you approach me sooner, Jug? Six months is a long time.”

Tossing another rock over the ledge, Jughead shrugged. “Time is relative for me. It’s not something I count or measure by. I’ll be here an eternity, alone. So while six months may be long for you, it’s a drop in the bucket for me.”

“Do most people ascend from here or do more…” Betty’s words tapered off as she gestured downward with her hand.

“My brethren and I were charged by Heaven to try and help people to repent with the ultimate goal of ascending, not descending. Somewhere along the line that seemed to change. The Premier Shadowman has encouraged less interference and more harsh punishment.”

Betty searched the treeline, thinking, of what, she wasn’t sure. Something was nagging at the back of her mind.

“It seems off for your leader to want  _ more _ souls to descend down to him. Isn’t that more for him to deal with?”

Jughead tilted his head and squinted his eyes in confusion. He’d been here for centuries and had never once considered that view. About to share that revelation with her, Jughead looked over to find Betty prone, eyes wide and jaw open and slack, a silent scream slipping from her lips.

Her body bucked as if in seizure and her pupils blew wide, rapidly scanning left to right and right to left over and over again, her back arching unnaturally through it all.

His anxiety heightened as this state continued. Afraid she’d get cut from the rocks they lay upon, he hauled her body into his lap, murmuring words of comfort as her episode continued. 

What seemed like a lifetime later, her jerking finally ceased and her body lay limp atop him. He pushed back her hair and cupped at her jaw, sweat coating his hand as he did so.

“Betty,” he breathed, dropping his face closer to her own. “Betty, are you still with me?”

Her eyes finally stopped their groggy rolling and refocused on his face. She looked as if she’d just stepped off a spinning carnival ride, dazed and unbalanced.

“Jug?” she choked out, mouth dry and thick.

“Calix,” he said urgently, summoning a cup and filling it from the waterfall’s clear fountain. He helped Betty upright a bit, her body still leaning heavily on his, and brought the glass up to her lips to drink from. 

She drank greedily, water spilling down her chin and onto her sweater, her throat loosening from the refreshingly cool liquid.

“Thank you,” she gushed, finally able to sit up on her own. He kept his arm behind her back for support just in case.

“What happened?” he prodded, placing his free hand upon her knee for comfort. “Seizures and disease don’t exist here on Level 1, so I’m not sure what that was.”

Betty twisted her finger together, taking a deep breath and gathering her thoughts. 

“I used to feel crazy about what I’m going to say, Jughead. But, now? Here in Purgatory hanging out with a Shadowman? I wonder if anything could be considered crazy at all?”

Again, he didn’t press her. Jughead allowed Betty to get her wits about her and when she spoke, he was primed to listen.

“You know how I said I had these episodes, mainly of ash and fire?” Betty asked, continuing her thoughts at his silent nod. “I think I’m having visions. Not just of my past life, but visions for the future, here and on Earth.”

Whatever Jughead had expected to hear, this was not it. He inched closer, if that was even possible, and tilted her chin up to meet his eyes.

“Tell me,” he said gently.

Betty gazed into the deep blue pools of his eyes. Not unlike the flowing water they sat by, his eyes felt comforting and soothing, like something she could get lost in. The pull towards him was almost magnetic and she wondered if it was like this for all humans with supernatural beings.

The snap of a twig behind him drew them from their trance. Jughead leaned in closer by her ear and whispered, “A patrol is approaching. Speak little, smile, and follow my lead.”

Without any time to process what was happening, Betty was pushed back onto the rock beneath her, his large palm cradling her head, and his lips covered her own.

The kiss wasn’t deep or demanding, just a simple press of his lips, warm and soft, before pulling back just a fraction, enough that their bottom lips still grazed each other. Fitting his body more firmly over hers, his head dipped once more, pressing more deliberately this time, hand grasping at her hair, his mouth sliding her top lip between his own. He ran his tongue along the edge of her lower lip before nipping at the fullness there and then once again firmly connecting their mouths.

Betty, for her part, went along with it. Not because it was an order, but because it felt amazing. For someone who was dead, she sure could feel the heat of her blood racing through her veins and a warm tingle spread throughout her body.

“Brother Jones,” a low voice sneered. “And here we thought you never partook in fleshy human delights.”

Lifting up from Betty and giving her a reassuring look, Jughead turned towards the voice to find two of his brethren; his friend, Ezekiel, and a brother he was not as fond of, Azriel.

“Azriel,” Jughead greeted him. “Nice to see you’ve come up from Level 8 for some fresh air. Ezekiel,” he nodded.

“Apparently you should take a trip downwards, my brother,” Azriel teased. “Are you on a date?”

Jughead laughed at his brother as if the thought was absurd. “Of course not. Well, not entirely. Spending so much time with the humans here has taught me that their ways of courtship and drawing out and delaying the delights of the flesh can be… quite satisfying.”

“You know what else would be satisfying?” Azriel sneered. “Holding her down and tearing off her clothes, taking your pleasure from her.”

Azriel looked over at Ezekiel, who grinned and nodded back, although half-heartedly. Jughead knew that Ezekiel leaned more towards his view on the whole Purgatory system and their duties. That being said, he did indulge on occasion.

“We could always join in, Jones, and make this a party,” Azriel leered, looking Betty up and down. 

Betty, while terrified of his implications, smiled evenly as Jughead had instructed. 

“What’s your name, girl?” he questioned.

Inhaling and evening out her voice, she managed to drawl out, “Betty,” quite sweetly.

“Brother Jones doesn’t seem to be in the mood for company, Azriel,” Ezekiel said. “Besides, we have rounds to finish. Our Premier brother says the Awakening is growing stronger, Jughead.”

Jughead nodded at his brothers, face betraying nothing. “I’ve been scouting extra as of late as well. I took on this concubine, untouched on Earth, to ease my nerves.”

Azriel held up a palm.

“When Brother Jones takes a concubine, things must be tense,” he laughed, looking back over at Ezekiel who chuckled as well.

Ezekiel looked over his shoulder at their surroundings, shifting back and forth as his nerves continued to grow.

“We should go, Azriel. We have to scan more of Level 2 today as well.”

Azriel nodded at his brother and then at Jughead before taking one more glance at Betty. 

“Enjoy your day, Jones. Make sure this one descends down my way once you’re finished.”

As their footsteps became more distant and their bodies out of sight, Betty let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and sank against Jughead’s shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around her for support and helped her stand. 

“I’m sorry about all that. It was the only way not to seem suspicious.”

Betty half-grinned in acceptance and wrapped her arms around herself. It was growing chilly as the clouds covered the sun, a bi-product of Jughead’s tension, no doubt.

“C’mon,” he urged. “It’s not safe here. Let’s go speak at my home.”

Grabbing her hand he whispered, “Domum,” into the cool air. Betty wished the sudden presence of the fireplace in his living room was the only reason she felt warm.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with this and reading! I love feedback, so drop some of you don’t mind! 
> 
> Thanks to @jandjsalmon for editing!  
Follow me on Tumblr @likemereckless for updates


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you still with me, thanks for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this one and I hope you enjoy it. Things get even darker from here on out, but there’s a lot of soft Bughead to cut through the darkness!

The Lovers by Ranier Maria Rilke

Look how each becomes gift and giver:

their veins with nothing but spirit flow.

Look how their forms like axles quiver,

round which revolving raptures glow.

Thirsters, and straight there are draughts for their drinking;

wakers, and look, they are sated with sight.

Let them, into each other sinking,

rise, surviving each other's might.   
  


**Jones Dwelling**

**Riverdale**

**Purgatory- Level 1**

** **

They stood in silence for a moment, still grasping each other, nerves unsettled after their encounter with the other Shadowmen. Slowly, he released the hold he had on her and she stepped back a bit, shaken not only from the events but also from their kiss.

“Are you alright?” Jughead asked, stuffing his hands in his pocket and shuffling awkwardly.

“Yeah,” she managed to whisper out, sounding unsure. “Yes.”

He nodded back and decided not to push her further and headed over towards the kitchen.

Already grabbing the kettle and summoning water, he snatched two teacups out of the top cabinet as well. 

“Tea?”

Betty smiled tightly and nodded back. She took a deep breath when his back was turned and headed towards the small loveseat near the coffee table to sit down. Her body was still chilled without his extra warmth and she wrapped her arms around herself again and rubbed up and down to warm her skin. Moments later she jumped, startled, as a thick, woolen blanket appeared on her lap. Her gaze drifted to the kitchen where he was filling the teacups, back still turned, but she could tell he was smirking.

With a smirk of her own, she wrapped the blanket more fully over herself and nestled back into the fluffy pillows. He joined her and handed her a steaming cup of tea, two cookies adorning the saucer.

Betty smiled down at the cookies. Such a simple gesture, but big in her world.

“Alice Cooper would have your head if she knew you were feeding me cookies,” she teased, picking up one from her plate.

“Alice Cooper better not say a word or I’ll banish her to the depths of Purgatory,” he shot back.

Betty stuffed more of the treat in her mouth, unsure how to respond. She forgot sometimes how powerful he was, what he could do. It scared her just then, but it also excited her as well. It was fascinating that a man who could do whatever he wanted chose to be this simple and good. She was unfamiliar with that type of dynamic.

They sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling and popping as they sipped at their tea. After practically swallowing her first cookie whole, Betty had nibbled daintily at the second, not wanting to look like a ravenous animal. When the second treat was all but done, she lifted her cup to take another sip of the hot beverage and noted another cookie had taken up residence on her saucer. She glanced sideways, amusement written on her face, and his as well.

He could tell when she was finally settled. The crumbs on the saucer no longer shook or rattled and her fingers held the china nice and stable. 

“Azriel,” he began, “is not one of my brothers who holds this duty to a high standard. He’s a rascal, a miscreant, a cad, a scamp.”

Betty stifled a laugh behind her knuckles and he glanced over at her.

“What?” he said. “I’ve been around for many years. I wasn’t sure which term would be most explanatory for you.”

“Asshole would have done it,” she countered. “But your list of adjectives was most enlightening.”

Jughead opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it suddenly. He moved to speak again and then once again hesitated.

“I- you. Are you always this much of a jester?”

“Not in Purgatory, I’m not. These… visions. They’ve made me a ball of nerves.”

He was glad she brought it up herself. He had wanted to talk about the events of the afternoon but wasn’t sure she could handle it. He could tell she was by no means fragile, but the events of the day had been tumultuous, to say the least.

“Can you tell me about them? Up at the waterfall, you appeared to have a seizure. Why did you see?”

Betty rose from the couch, wrapping the cream woolen blanket around herself, more for comfort than for warmth at this point. She walked over closer to the fire and peered into its depths. The flames were beautiful really, the way they flickered up and licked at the log, snapping and waving, consuming the oxygen in the fireplace. It reminded her of herself when the visions began, breathless and engulfed, whipped and choked by the fiery images before her.

Shaking her head gently to clear that image, she turned back to him and sucked in a deep breath.

“Betty, you don’t have to-“

“I’m fine. It’s fine. I just needed to gather my thoughts a bit. They- my visions, they aren’t always the same. Sometimes they are outlines of people, I think from my life, and other times they are these weird scenes like- like what is to come.”

“What did you see this afternoon?” he probed. “Because whatever it was did a number on you.”

Betty closed her eyes and began to replay the images on the backs of her eyelids. Torment and carnage seemed to be everywhere and consuming everything. Sucking in a breath and choking back a sob, she put a hand up over her mouth to prevent herself from crying aloud.

Instantly, he was off of the couch and at her side.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. That’s a promise, okay? And I’m half angel, so that’s a pretty good promise.”

Sniffling into her sleeve Betty nodded and huffed out a small chuckle. She allowed him to lead her back to the couch to sit again and she turned to face him more directly.

“You wanted to know what I saw,” she began. “My episodes are getting stronger. They are usually just fire and ash, people burning. Today was more frenzied. People were running everywhere, screaming and crying, yelling out for loved ones and friends. All around them the world was set ablaze, flames engulfed everything.”

She began to rub her hands together, palm to palm, causing tiny black evidence of friction in her palms. 

“I walked through it all, unharmed and unscathed while the people around me called out in agony, flesh missing and blackened, some just charred skeletons on the ground.”

As her recollections became more graphic, Betty began to clench her fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. Jughead had been maintaining eye contact, but was aware of the tension she was holding inside herself. He placed his hands in hers, willing her to squeeze his own hands rather than pierce her own skin.

Offering a tight smile of thanks, she continued.

“Jughead, I’ve always seen these flames, but not like this. Not this clearly. After a moment, the ground beneath me began to shake and rumble, as if an earthquake was beginning. The dirt beneath my feet began to split open and a huge crevice formed.”

Betty’s voice began to tremble as she spoke and he did not like where her story was leading. He could sense she wanted to stop, but he needed her to continue.

“What happened next, Betty?” he prodded.

Tears pooled in her green orbs and began to cascade out the corners, glistening down her cheekbones and off of her chin.

With a warbled, thick voice she continued.

“These… things began to crawl out of the crevice and devour the people who managed to escape the flames. They were horrible and misshapen. The ground began to rumble even more and then it burst, opening a giant crater in the earth. I couldn’t see what was emerging from it, but I could feel the malevolence and hear hoofbeats and it was harrowing.”

Her hands shook as she spoke. Jughead felt the vibrations through his own and it took him a moment to realize that his were shaking as well, but not just from her tremors. Betty looked right at him, terror awash on her face as she finished.

“Before I could see who, or what, was there, a hooded figure appeared. He was ashen and gray and his eyes were sunken in and yellowed. He raised his arms as if to call the creature forward and then he saw me. He saw me and he stopped.”

Betty’s tears flowed freely now and she had inched her way even closer to him, her knees clashing with his and her hands clutching at his own.

“I swear he could actually see me, Jug. Like not just in the vision but for real. He turned to me and growled, ‘Prophetam,” before lifting his arms in my direction. My blood ran cold and I couldn’t move and then… then it was over and you were holding me and…”

He pulled her against his chest tightly, her tears soaking his shirt. Her story unnerved him and he hated that she was so shaken, but if he was right, they had more to fear than just visions. Jughead averted his eyes and looked into the far corner of the room, seemingly lost in thought.

“Just say it,” Betty breathed from the crook of his neck. “Whatever it is that you’re thinking, just say it.”

“Prophetam is Latin for prophet. You said he looked right at you and you felt that he saw you?”

Betty pulled back a bit and nodded at him, her eyes red and puffy from her recollections. 

“What you described fits the description we Shadowmen have of the end of days; total and complete takeover of Heaven and Earth by the demons of Hell and Lucifer.”

Her breath hitched in her throat and quickened and her stomach fluttered as if perched on the top of a roller coaster, waiting to plummet downward.

“Up until now, I believed most of it to be hearsay, but legend has it that a Prophet will be able to stop Lucifer and his demons from releasing Hell on Earth by defeating his second in command.”

“Do you know who that is? The second in command?” Betty asked.

Jughead stood from the sofa to rummage through an old, worn leather-bound book that he picked from his bookshelf. He flipped through the pages until he came to the photograph he was looking for and brought the album back over, placing it on his lap.

“Up until today it was just a story, but after this… I’m not so sure anymore.”

Drawing her attention to the well-worn page, Jughead showed Betty a photograph of 11 men, all cloaked in black and standing around a circle together. 

“The man you saw in your vision, do you see him here?” he asked, already knowing the answer but seeking confirmation.

Betty scanned the photo and paused on one face; a face she could not forget. Lifting a finger she pointed at it.

“Him. He was the man in my vision. He was the one that looked right through me.”

Jughead closed the album and tossed it on the table. Leaving his elbows on his knees, he hunched forward and ran his hands through his hair.

“Hey, What is it?” Betty asked, placing a hand on his back and another on his knee. “It’s going to be fine.”

“It’s far from fine, Betty.” he shot back, anger rising in his chest.

“That man in the photo, the one you recognized, is the Premiere Shadowman.”

Betty shook her head, not understanding the issue at hand.

“But that’s good news, isn’t it? We know who it is and if this is real, we can tell people and stop him.”

“He identified YOU, Betty. He called you, Prophetam, prophet. When you said it seemed like he looked through you it’s because he actually did. Just as you saw him, he saw you. YOU are the prophet set to stop the apocalypse.”

Betty sat back from him, incredulous and disbelieving look on her face.

“Jug, there’s no way. I’m just- I’ve never been- I’m nobody!” she finished, nerves growing heavy once again.

“You’re Awake, Betty.” he yelled. “That’s not a coincidence or a common occurrence!”

Betty glanced up at him wide-eyed, panic flowing through her skin. He could feel the fear mounting inside her, apprehension growing with each passing second.

“How? How could I be the one to stop an apocalypse? What if I can’t?” she trembled.

“I’m not sure, honestly. That’s something we will need to figure out together. In the meantime, since he’s seen you, the public isn’t safe without my help to disguise you. We need to figure out what is at stake and how you’re involved. Until we do, you can’t go home or anywhere out of my sight.”

**New York, New York**

**Earth**

**10 months prior**

** **

Veronica Lodge wrinkled up her nose and regarded the wet floor with a look is disdain as her new Manolo Blahniks clicked against the tiles of the White Wyrm.

Pushing open the second swinging door with a rusty squeak, she marched her way inside, ignoring the stares and sneers of the bar’s regular patrons.

Heading straight to the bar, she pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the barstool before offering a phony smile to the bartender, Toni.

“Toni,” she greeted, folding her hands neatly on her lap, “could you let FP know I’m here, please. I’d like to get right to it.”

Toni imitated her phony grin and ducked out from behind the bar to fetch him.

“Anything for you, Ron.”

Veronica, satisfied with her response tossed back, “Tell him to hurry. The longer I stay here the more likely I am to get tetanus.” 

Impatiently tapping her toe on the footrest of the stool, she turned to look around at the patrons in the bar. Some were playing pool, others were playing darts, and a few just stood around and bantered. What they had in common was that they all wore Southside Serpent jackets.

Veronica curled up her lip in disgust, not because she believed them to be scum, but because she knew they were. They all worked for her father, crime boss Hiram Lodge and his many illegal trade markets.

Early on she had learned of her father’s business endeavors. She remembers being a small child and watching a woman beg her father not to hurt her husband, that they had a child at home. She also remembers seeing that woman again, draped in black and ushering her distraught son down an aisle.

She can picture they clouds of smoke that billowed out of his study and the laughs of all the men he met with, their clinking glasses signaling business was done and it was time for pleasure.

Veronica could never forget the catatonic look in her mother's eyes after her father used her as bait in one of his plans and she came home a changed woman.

People would always judge her; a rich girl in her designer dresses and vintage accessories. They had no idea that she just played her role to stay hidden in plain sight, to go undetected by her father until she was 18 and could start a life of her own. Until then, she took advantage of his business partners and their products to help herself stay numb.

“Hey, Ronnie,” FP said crudely, widely chewing his gum as he walked over to him with salacious swagger in his step. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Rolling her eyes, Veronica slid off the stool to stand straight and tall. 

“Cut the crap, FP. You know why I’m here,” she countered.

FP sniffed and wiped a finger on the side of his nose, sauntering closer to her side.

“I don’t know where you think your power comes from Little Miss Milan, but no one talks to me that way in front of my family.”

Locking his eyes with her hard stare she said, “Well, then maybe we better finish this in private.”

Leering back at her, FP sneered and jerked his head to the side, signaling for her to follow. Once in his office, she got right down to business.

Shutting the door behind herself, Veronica folded her arms across her chest and turned towards FP. 

“I need more Jingle Jangle.”

FP huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

“I told you we were done the last time.”

“FP,” she snapped. “I tell YOU when we are done. Or did you forget that I have dirt on you that Daddy would not like to find out about.

He looked frustrated and backed into a corner. It wasn't a feeling FP Jones was used to or a feeling he liked. A few months ago, she had come to him for some JJ. He had denied her at first, knowing Hiram would have his head if he knew he had given his daughter drugs, but then she surprised him.

Veronica knew about his connection and later interference with the Andrews’ family who had been laundering money for Hiram. She offered to connect the dots for her father and let FP take his chances, or he could supply her with some of Hiram’s own JJ. FP had chosen the latter.

“How long are you going to hang this over my head, Ronnie?”

She shrugged and smirked back at him.

“For as long as I can.”

Groaning, FP opened up his locked cabinet in the back and fished around for what she was looking for. Tossing a bag her way, Veronica examined the contents before nodding, satisfied. 

“Pleasure doing business,” she said in place of a goodbye, pushing open his office door and walking back out through the bar, pausing only to leave a tip for Toni, the bartender. She seemed like she could use the extra boost.

  
  


**Jones Dwelling**

**Riverdale**

**Purgatory- Level 1**

****   
  


Betty pushed back against the cushions and placed her hands over her face, pushing them out towards her ears and pulling the skin back as she went. Her palms slapped down against her thighs and she rubbed them back and forth vigorously, trying to avoid clenching her fists into tight balls and breaking the skin. Shaking her head back and forth, tears once again flowed their way down her cheeks and over the top of her nose.

The stress of the day seemed to be wearing down her walls. As Jughead moved to wrap an arm around her back, Betty’s eyes rolled back in her head and she became unresponsive. 

“Betty? Hey, Betty, can you hear me?” Jughead tapped at her cheek and shook her arms.

In her trance, Betty began to grab at her arms and then at her abdomen, face scrunching up in agony and shock. She called out for help from anyone, from God, and then from Jughead.

Betty’s eyelids fluttered and raced as visions inundated her.

“Hal! Hal!” Alice cried, clutching at her husband’s back. “Please, don’t do this!”

“I didn’t do this, Alice. Polly did. She wanted to be grown up? Well, now she can be!”

Hal continued to toss clothes and belongings out the front door as Polly stood on the stoop in hysterics.

“Mom. Mommy, please! I’m so scared!” Polly cried.

Alice reached out an arm towards her daughter, deep sorrowful wails dipping from her lips.

“You weren’t scared when you let that Ivy League criminal defile you. Do you even know how corrupt and terrible the Blossom’s are?”

“Daddy please. I just, I just made a mistake. I thought he loved me,” Polly cried.

“Well, you better hope he does, you and those bastard babies. You have no family here anymore.”

Hal slammed the door and the vibrations reverberated all the way up the stairs to where a chair was propped against Betty’s door, effectively trapping her inside.

“Polly!” Betty screamed. “Polly!”

Running to her window, she flung open the glass and stepped out into the rooftop. Her motions, drastic from her duress, caused her to skid on some leaves that had piled up there. Betty slide from the rooftop and was falling. She could feel the crack of bone as her arm hit the ground.

Her visions changed yet again.

He had Alice pressed up against the wall of the Oracle, fist squeezing at her throat like a vice.

“Just say it, Alice. Say what you’re thinking, what you’re dying to write in this small town, waste of ink paper.”

Alice shook her head and gasped for air.

“Hal,” she managed to squeak out.

He pulled his hand back a fraction so she could speak.

“Say it, Alice! Say it right now or so help me…”

“It was you,” she blurted. “You killed the Blossom twins.”

Hal smiled, teeth shining through in the dark and eyes filled with delight. 

“It took you long enough to put the evidence together for someone who is supposed to be a reporter.”

“And Tom Keller and the teachers?” Alice asked.

Hal nodded, stretching his arms out wide, palms up to the sky.

“Sinners must be punished, Alice. Tom, Robert, Jason, Geraldine, they were all sinners. And you know who else is a sinner, Alice? You.”

Hal’s fingers tightened once again around her throat and he squeezed harder than before. Betty, who had been in the back changing for her run, took this opportunity to quietly tiptoe out front and grab the old, heavy typewriter from the nearby desk.

As she crept her way up behind him, the old floorboards creaked. Hal turned, but Betty’s arms were already stretched up over his head and she brought the hunk of metal down on him hard.

Hal slumped to the floor, still alive and muttering Betty’s name as Betty grabbed Alice and ran for the door, phone in her hand already dialing 9-1-1.

The scene blacked out from the newspaper office and Betty was once again home, curled up on the couch with Alice and Polly, sipping tea and watching home makeover shows.

“I’m sorry,” Alice said. “I’m so sorry to you both. Sorry I wasn’t stronger. Sorry I didn’t just take you and leave. Sorry I put you through all the things I did. I was just… so afraid of your father.”

Alice placed her hand on Polly’s swollen belly. 

“Be stronger than me, Polly. For them.”

The next images were much darker.

Betty awoke in the middle of the night. Eyes squinting she looked around her room for the source of her agitation. She had always had a sixth sense about these things and something felt wrong.

From the corner of her room she saw a shadow move. She tried to move, but her muscles felt thick and heavy, like being weighed underwater.

Out of the shadows, Chic emerged, blade glistening in the strip of moonlight shining through. 

“Hey, Betty,” he smiled.

Betty’s heart began to pound. Her limbs felt like lead and she couldn’t even tilt her head to the side. She was fighting to stay conscious. A single tear cascaded down her cheekbone and off her chin, pooling at her collarbone.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. You can’t move right now Betty because I have you drugged with a neuromuscular blocker. Soon, it will stop all your muscles from working; your arms, your legs, your lungs.”

Fear seized Betty’s mind, but her body could not react. 

“I wish it would have been different Betty. I wish you and I could have… we could have been happy. Hal said we’d be happy when you graduated, Betty.”

Pacing closer to the bed, Chic’s anger began to rise.

“But then you had to- you went and got Hal caught. We were doing important work, Betty! Don’t you know!?”

Chic had rushed the side of the bed and raised his knife in anger.

“You won’t feel it Betty. I made sure of that. Just know I’m doing this because I love you.”

Betty’s eyes could no longer squint open, her chest could no longer rise. Everything was quiet.

As Jughead gripped Betty’s body to his she slowly came back into her own. Her pupils were wide and her chest heaved irregularly, gasping and gulping for air.

“Betty, hey. I got you. You’re alright now, Betty. Stay with me,” he rambled on, gripping her cheeks in his hands and pressing his forehead to hers.

Huge sobs wracked her body and she curled her legs up into him, wrapping her arms so tightly around his shoulders like an anaconda squeezing its prey.

Jughead let his hands rub up and down her spine, whispering soothing phrases in Latin into her hairline. He used his angelic abilities to once again issue a wave of calm over the room. 

They sat wrapped up in each other for what seemed like hours before her sobs turned to sniffles and her grip on him relinquished. Shyly, she looked up at him through her red, puffy features.

“Thank you. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize, Betty. This is a lot for anyone to handle. You didn’t ask for this- any of this.”

“I know how it happened,” she said in a small voice.

Jughead looked down at her puzzled. “The apocalypse?”

Betty shook her head lightly.

“No, how I died.” Her fingers tightened on his shoulders at that admission.

Jughead looked crestfallen. Most people never knew how it happened. They didn’t see it or question it because they were so ecstatic to be reunited with their loved ones. To be forced to watch your own death was unheard of and inhumane.

“Betty, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

“My life wasn’t a fairytale, Jughead. But I’m sure you already know that,” she stated evenly. 

Betty held out her arms and pulled back her sleeves, bearing the scars that she had left upon herself. Wrapping his hands around his forearm, he brushed his thumbs over the purple lines, seemingly erasing them from her pale skin.

“I had already had flashbacks to those marks, but it does explain the purple gash like along my side.”

Betty slowly lifted her sweater, revealing a long purple line from rib to hip down her left side.

“I guess he was angry still, even after I was…” Betty trailed off. It was one thing saying she was dead before, but now after witnessing it, remembering it, the word seemed to stumble from her lips.

“Hey, I know this is a lot and it’s scary, but it’s going to be okay. Death is but the next great adventure, Betty.”

Betty’s lips twisted into a curious grin.

“Did you just quote Harry Potter to me to help me cope with the fact that I’m dead, Jughead?”

He shrugged and second-guessed himself, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean, I saw it on your bookshelf in your ‘real-life’ so…” he trailed off, shy.

“I’m teasing, thank you.” Betty’s grin quickly turned down into a frown.

“Hey, What is it?” he asked.

“My sister, Polly. I haven’t seen her here. Did she pass on already or is she okay?”

Jughead breathed a sigh of relief. It was nice to finally provide her with some good news.

“Polly is fine. Both she and the twins.”

Betty's heart felt so full at his words. She clutched at her chest and almost cried again, this time from joy.

“What are their names?” Betty asked, laughing a bit, and wiping at her eyes.

Jughead took in a deep breath and scrunched up his face as if to say, I can’t believe I’m saying this.

“Juniper and Dagwood,” he told her.

Betty laughed again and clutched her palms up by her heart, then wiped away one last errant tear with her finger.

“That sounds like Polly.”

Jughead grinned back and watched her stifle a yawn against the back of her hand.

“You should get some rest,” he said, nudging her to lay back onto the couch. “It’s been a really long morning and you went through so much in such a short time.”

Before she could process her words, Betty blurted out, “Stay with me?”

After they left her lips, she was a bit embarrassed. A blush covered her cheeks and she felt flush. To his credit, Jughead said nothing. He lay down beside her on the couch and covered them both with a blanket.

“Do Shadowmen even sleep?” she asked.

“We don’t have to, but I like to,” he replied. “It passes the time.”

She was silent for a while and had shifted so she lay partially on him, head resting on his chest. Her breathing began to even out and he knew she was almost asleep.

“Jug?” her small, sleepy voice said through the silence.

“Yeah?”

“That was my first kiss,” Betty whispered as if it were a secret.

He felt her breath slow and peaked down to see that she was asleep. He smiled down at her and brought an arm up to tuck some hair behind her ear to get a clearer view of her face and pressed her tighter into his chest.

“Mine too, Betty,” he whispered softly. “Mine too.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the lovely @jandjsalmon for her beta reading!
> 
> Tumble with me for story updates and story recommendations: @likemereckless


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6! Just 5 more to go! Time to shake things up!

Excerpt from Awake! by Sarojini Naidu

“Waken, O mother! thy children implore thee, 

Who kneel in thy presence to serve and adore thee! 

The night is aflush with a dream of the morrow, 

Why still dost thou sleep in thy bondage of sorrow? 

Awaken and sever the woes that enthrall us, 

And hallow our hands for the triumphs that call us!”

**Jones Dwelling**

**Riverdale**

**Purgatory- Level 1**

He hadn’t gone to sleep. Like he’d told her, he didn’t really need to and there was a much more interesting distraction to look at while he was awake. It confused him to have such a deep need to help her. He had never had any close relations or friends since the fall of the angels so long ago.

She shifted a bit, drawing him from his thoughts. In sleep, Betty looked like an angel. Her features were soft and relaxed and every so often she’d mumble something adorable into his chest. His favorite so far was, “More grilled cheese.”

He chuckled at the memory, the vibrations of his chest jostling her and stirring her awake.

“Mmm, hey,” she whispered, sitting up, using his chest for support. 

“Sorry about that. I don’t usually pass out on people. I’m more of a futon kind of girl,” she yawned.

“Futon?” he shook his head, brushing it off. 

“It’s like a couch bed. It’s a couch and flips down into a bed. It’s like- multifunctional and stuff,” Betty explained, smacking her lips and stretching her arms up above her head.

“That sounds uncomfortable. Why would you choose a futon? My bed is way cozier,” he said, a blush painting its way across his cheeks as he realized what he was implying.

“I don’t know about your bed, but you were pretty cozy. I bet you and a bed would make me sleep for a week,” she teased, easing the tension.

_ “I wasn’t thinking of sleeping,”  _ echoed through his mind.

The grumble of her stomach echoed through the room. Jughead was secretly grateful for its interruption. His thoughts had been straying to places they had never before. He found himself wondering what the skin by her bellybutton would feel like under his lips and how his name would sound when she sighed it.

Betty placed her palm on her belly and grimaced, realizing how hungry she had become. She looked up at the clock and saw it was two-thirty.

“I didn’t have breakfast this morning and I guess it is past lunch. I can run home-“

Already rising from the couch he suggested, “How does grilled cheese sound?”

Betty perked up and rose to follow him into the small kitchen.

“That actually sounds delicious, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he laughed. “I’ve never made grilled cheese before.”

She looked at him incredulously. “How have you never made a grilled cheese sandwich? It’s like the easiest laziest food there is.”

Brandishing a spatula her way, Jughead said, “I’m not sure if you’re calling me lazy or easy,” in mock offense. “But, I’ll have you know, only one of those is true.”

Betty eyed him playfully and then elbowed him out of the way, grabbing the spatula from his hand and then grabbing a frying pan from the pot hanger above the stove.

“Do you have bread and cheese?” she asked accusingly, laying the frying pan down.

Jughead popped his fingers up into the air and snapped. “Panem. Caseus.”

A loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese appeared on the countertop. 

“Anything else you require, my lady?” he said in a cozy tone.

“Yes. I require silence from you and your big head.”

Jughead brought his hand up to his chest and let his jaw go slack.

“Is that how you speak to the man who got you cheese?”

Betty giggled and bit her lip. She was a bit in awe of the fact that he wasn’t human. He looked human and certainly acted like it at some points. Maybe this is why she never had a boyfriend when she was alive. Only supernatural beings did it for her.

“Yeah, well, it’s not that simple for us mere mortals. We can’t just say ‘caseus’ and have cheese fall from the sky.”

It started as a light tap on the windows and the roof and grew to become more consistent. Betty looked over at Jughead questioningly and he squinted his eyes in confusion. Pulling back the curtain and peering outside, Jughead watched as tiny blocks of cheese fell from the sky onto the ground below. Flabbergasted, he turned quickly to look over at Betty who was now right behind him, mouth aghast and her hand covering her lips.

“Betty, how did you…” he trailed off as he watched her shake her head back and forth in disbelief. Grabbing her hand he pulled her outside. He summoned an umbrella to fit over the both of them so they weren’t covered in cheddar.

“Can you stop it?” she finally asked, eyes still wide as she caught a tiny cheese block as it fell midair.

“Why don’t you try?” he suggested. Leaning closer he whispered into her ear.

Taking a deep breath and looking around at her cheese infestation, Betty barked out, “Prohibere!”

The last few cubes fell to the ground, almost as if the last drizzles of a rainstorm and the cheese inundation ceased.

The two of them stood there momentarily immobilized in shock. Betty could feel the power running through her body, warming her from deep inside. Slowly, the warmth began to subside and she turned to look up at Jughead who still stood dazed next to her.

Jughead wrestled with what this could mean. For him, it confirmed that her visions were in fact real, but this also implied that Betty wasn’t quite mortal.

“Jughead,” she said softly.

Closing the umbrella and tossing it to the ground, he shook his head and squinted up at the sky. Could it be possible? Was this why he was so drawn to her? 

“Jughead,” she said more forcefully this time, crossing her arms across her chest to combat the chill in the air.

Jughead turned and walked over to the porch, plopping down in an Adirondack chair. Betty slowly walked her way over and stood off to the side, unsure if he would welcome her company.

With his head perched on his hand, he saw her shadow stretch across to his feet and realized she was waiting for him to acknowledge her. Looking up he offered a small smile and pointed to the chair next to his.

She sat, tentatively, perched on the edge of the chair, wringing her hands together again. Jughead placed a large palm over her hand to stop her fidgeting.

“Maybe it’s just because I’m awake,” Betty said, her tone not completely confident.

“Betty, that’s angel magic or powers or whatever you want to call it. Only angels get any type of reaction when they speak those words.”

“Jughead, that’s...”

“Impossible?” he interjected. “I know. Or I  _ thought  _ I knew.” 

He ran another frustrated hand through his hair. Glancing over he could tell she was worried. He’d reacted poorly and this wasn’t even about him. In the span of days she found out she was dead, chosen to stop an apocalypse, and now could perform angel magic.

“Hey,” he said, smirking at her.

Betty looked over at his more relaxed demeanor and watched as he lifted a hand and mumbled a few words. A perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich appeared in his hand and he offered to her, still grinning.

Betty bit her lip and took his offering. 

“You’re telling me you could have just done that earlier?” she asked.

Shrugging, he said, “I’ve never had a home-cooked meal before. Sounded nice.”

He summoned another and they sat and ate quietly, both lost in separate contemplation.

When their sandwiches were finished, neither were exactly ready to tackle this mystery.

“Can we take a walk just around here maybe?” Betty asked. “We can get back to work right after, but I’d like to just enjoy the day a little longer.”

“A walk sounds good,” he replied, standing and offering her a hand. Pulling her up from the chair, he left their fingers linked which did not go unnoticed by her. As they strolled through the wooded area near his home, Betty looked up at all the leaves on the treetops.

“I can’t wait until they turn colors and begin to fall. I love the rustle of them under my feet when I walk and the colorful path they leave on the ground. Fall always seemed so magical when I was alive. Pumpkins and mums… I always felt like things might be okay.”

Jughead gave her palm a squeeze. He found himself wanting to make her smile, make her feel like everything would be okay. He stopped her for a moment and whispered, “Close your eyes.”

Tossing him a questioning glance, she listened to his instructions. Jughead turned to face her and linked both their hands together. He murmured a few words before saying, “Open.”

Betty opened her eyes to find the treetops turned red, and cinnamon, and burnt orange. Her smile grew as a light breeze came through and leaves began to slowly fall toward the ground, too slowly to be natural. 

Giggling, she reached her hand out to brush some of the falling sequins of color. He could believe she was an angel at that moment. His mouth felt dry and thick. He had the urge to kiss her again, but part of it felt wrong. She had so much to deal with right now, how could he be so selfish.

When the last few leaves had finally reached the ground, he dropped one of her hands and resumed their walk, crunching the leaves under his feet as she did as they walked.

“You were right,” he said after a few moments.

She looked up at him questioningly.

“I do feel like everything will be alright.”

A rustling behind them stopped them in their tracks. Jughead dropped his chin lower and whispered to Betty, “If say run, or I have to warp you somewhere else, don’t look for me.”

“Jughead-“ Betty disputed, but her argument was left unfinished as he turned to face the footsteps coming closer.

“Hello, Brother-“ he began his greeting, only to be greeted by two other familiar, less threatening faces.

“Sam, Dean, I didn’t expect to see you two,” Jughead sighed out in relief.. “What brings you back to Purgatory?”

“Mostly the pie,” Dean nodded, earning an eye roll from his brother.

“Dean got killed again. I’m just bringing him back,” Sam explained, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging his shoulders.

“Ah,” Jughead nodded. “So just another Tuesday.”

“That your girl?” Dean grinned, flashing a toothy smile and giving Jughead a thumbs up.

“Uh, we, we are sort of actually trying to stop the apocalypse from starting,” he confessed. “You guys might want to get back up to Earth just in case, you know, we get obliterated before that.”

Dean looked up to the sky, shook his head, and pouted. 

“Can’t we ever catch a break? I mean, the apocalypse, again? Seriously? I was signed up for cowboy school next week.”

Opening a portal, Jughead offered an apologetic shrug.

“Take care, Jug,” Sam offered. “Hopefully we won’t see you again for a while.”

“Give my love to Castiel,” Jughead waved before sealing the door behind them. 

Turning back to Betty, he found her with a quirked brow and a perplexed look. 

“Old friends,” he explained, offering no more than that.

“Soooo,” Betty drawled, shivering a bit from the chill in the air. “We need to figure everything out, don’t we?”

Unwrapping the flannel shirt from around his waist, he draped it over her shoulders to warm her up. The jacket fell long over her small frame and he couldn’t help but wonder how small she might feel under him in his embrace.

“Thanks,” Betty simpered, warmed by the simple yet kind gesture.

Jughead flushed a bit, as a warmth spread through him. It was a very different type of warmth than when he used his Grace, but it was just as powerful. 

Clearing his throat he rasped, “So, I think we need to start by figuring out how you connect to all of this. The fact that you can perform angel magic and are Awake is not coincidental. You must have angelic blood, even if it’s very diluted.”

Betty looked at him with an expression of disbelief. “Jug, you can’t seriously think that I’m part angel.” 

Jughead shrugged, his arms out wide and his expression saying  _ what else can it be? _

“It’s the only logical explanation, Betty. We need to get into the Relictorium where the genealogy and prophecy texts are kept, but without being seen.

Another rustle of leaves caused them to pause in their conversation. Jughead sighed, assuming his two acquaintances had returned only to find Ezekiel in their place.

Jughead acted first, pushing Betty behind him and wrapping his arms back around her in protection. Betty huddled into his back, her palms splayed across his shoulder blades, bracing for impact or a fight.

“Ezekiel,” Jughead greeted his brother. “On patrol?”

“I was on patrol looking for whoever had Awakened,” he confessed, “but it seems like my search is over.”

  
  


**Bloomingdale, New York**

**Earth**

**5 months prior**

A swirl of blue and yellow varsity jackets filled the yard alongside chants of, “Bloomingdale. Make ‘em wail!”

Gaggles of girls in cheer uniforms clung to the arms of the victorious Bulldogs, celebrating their win against a long-time rival. Red cups littered the lawn as the kegs that were plunked on the patio earlier in the night served as bases for keg stands. 

Down by the pool, Reggie, Archie, Chuck, and a few other starting players sat around in lawn chairs rehashing the game.

“That play, bro!” Chuck beamed, his arm reaching up into the air to mimic the pass. “It was legit, like a pro.”

Archie chuckled into his shoulder. He knew the play was fantastic but was humble enough not to gloat.

“I threw it, but Reggie had to catch it, so he should get some credit there, too.”

Reggie stood from where he had grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and spun on the spot, arms open wide and took a bow, finishing it off with a large swig from the bottle.

“Hey, Reg, man,” Archie spoke. “Maybe you should slow down a little?”

Reggie eyed Archie as if continuing was now a challenge. “Andrews, c’mon. We gotta celebrate this victory! Take a shot!”

Reggie thrust the bottle out towards Archie who took it from him and placed it on the pavement. 

“We both drove here, Reg,” Archie reminded him, give him a side-eye as Reggie picked up the bottle again, flashing Archie a toothy grin.

“And here we shall crash, Arch! Go Bulldogs!” Reggie whooped loudly to the crowd students, earning a few barks back in response.

As Reggie took another swig from the bottle before passing it to Chuck, a bulldog cheerleader, sans pompoms, approached Archie from the lawn.

“Hey, Arch,” Nancy cooed, awkwardly folding and unfolding her arms as she approached him.

Archie grinned and rose from his folding chair, rubbing a hand down the back of his hair. He liked Nancy, she was nice enough and sweet, and he knew she liked him. They had slept together after the last football game and she had confessed her feelings for him. Archie had told her he just didn’t have room for a relationship in his life with all he was dealing with, but if he did, she’d be the one he called.

“Hey Nancy,” he smiled back. “The squad looked great tonight.”

“Nancy!” bellowed Reggie, he and Chuck tossing back some green Jell-O shots as he spoke. “Where all your girls at? Reggie is ready for love!”

Nancy rolled her eyes and dragged the toe of her shoe through the gravel, sighing at Reggie’s usual antics.

“I believe the whole squad is immune to your charms, Reginald,” she sassed, scooting closer to Archie as she spoke.

Reggie ran his tongue through his teeth and eyed Nancy carefully. In the hour and a half since their arrival, he had drunk quite a bit. As much as he talked up Archie for his quarterback skills and his female prowess, he was starting to wear thin and his jealousy was seeping through.

“Oh, come on, Nancy,” Reggie teased, licking his lips and adjusting his stance. “You aren’t immune to football players. In fact, didn’t you give it up to Archie just last week?”

Nancy’s cheeks flushed and she turned away from the group, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. 

“Reg, enough,” Archie warned him, outreaching an arm to command him to drop it.

“What, Arch? You want them all? Or was Nancy just  _ that _ good.” Reggie laughed, looking around to see none of their friends laughing with him. Chuck eyed the ground along with Josie, while Toni moved to Nancy’s side to comfort her, tears threatening to fall.

“Knock it off, Reggie,” Archie insisted, offering a light shove to Reggie’s chest. 

As he turned to leave, Reggie grabbed Archie by the back of the shirt and twirled him around, shoving him back hard.

“What Andrews? You think you have claim to all the booty in Riverdale? Don’t flatter yourself, bro. She’s just that easy.”

Reggie stumbled back towards the pool and Chuck jumped in behind him, preventing him from falling into the empty water.

Archie considered shoving Reggie so he fell in, but decided to be the bigger man. From behind him he heard a small sniffle and turned to find Toni rubbing Nancy’s back and walking her back towards the house. 

Looking back once more to Reggie, the two locked eyes and stared each other down hard. As Reggie regained his footing and pushed Chuck off of him, he sauntered in the opposite direction and Archie ran to catch up with Nancy.

“Nancy!” he called, catching her before they reached the house. “What Reggie said, you know none of us think that about you. Especially me. I think you’re pretty great.”

Dipping her head down toward her shoulder, and wiping at angry tears that had fallen, Nancy tried to offer him a smile, but couldn’t find one to share.

“Do you want me to take you home?” he asked, replacing Toni’s arm on her back with his.

She nodded, barely, and Archie ushered her towards his old truck parked out front. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, Archie fiddling with the dials on the radio for something to do with his hands, the street lights flickering through the car windows and illuminating her tears like twinkling fairy lights.

Archie’s chest constricted a bit at the turmoil Nancy was trying to suppress. He really did like her, but he was so damaged he didn’t think he could handle anyone else’s baggage at the moment.

“Listen, Nancy, I really do like you and last week, it was amazing. I swear I didn’t brag or talk about it or anything,” Archie spoke softly, trying to convey his sincerity.

“Archie,” she faltered, unsure of what she wanted to say, but her words were fated to remain unspoken. Archie rounded the corner after halting at the stop sign. He looked over at Nancy in time to see her words pause and her eyes widen. Her lips opened in a silent scream and Archie gazed rapidly to his left. For a split second, he saw the outline of a familiar black Chevy Chevelle and the flash of a blue and gold varsity jacket, but the realization was blacked out with the crunching of metal, the weightless feeling of being airborne and then nothing.

Engines continued to run and gasoline and burned. Reggie groaned from somewhere beneath the twisted metal. The world was blurry and flashing as Nancy came to, slowly piecing together the moments prior. One look over at Archie and she emptied the contents of her stomach. He had not been as fortunate as she had. 

Pulling herself through the vehicle window, she crawled out and across the pavement, falling back in the grass and wincing at the pulsating pain in her leg. From the black car nearby she could hear groaning. Nancy flopped her head to the side and could see Reggie’s frame slumped across the steering wheel and fuel leaked from the car. 

She wanted to do nothing. He was an asshole and deserved to burn, but her internal moral compass wouldn’t allow it. Ignoring the piercing pain in her lower body, Nancy dragged herself over to the mangled vehicle and pried open the dented door. Wrapping one arm tightly around the intoxicated Reggie, she pulled him from his seat, and onto the grass beside her. 

As she dragged him back further from the burning vehicle, she heard sirens in the background. Besides the throbbing in her head and her leg, Nancy thanked God she was alright. She looked over to where Reggie lay unconscious but alive with such ferocity and hatred. Her last thought before the EMTs arrived was, “Why Archie? It should have been Reggie.”

  
  


**Riverdale**

**Purgatory- Level 1**

Time seemed to freeze and all sound seemed to stop. Terrified to peak out from behind him, Betty stayed flush against his back, tiny tremors wracking her body.

Jughead and Ezekiel could sense the tension in the woods. Their energies creating a bubble around the scene, blocking out all else. Jughead had waited for Ezekiel to make a move, but his brother stood still and poised, the silence thickening to such a taut point that the vibrations in the air could almost be felt.

“How long have you known?” Ezekiel spoke, breaking the long stretched silence between them.

Jughead brought one arm around from Betty and reached out toward his brother.

“Ezekiel, you don’t understand-“ he began to explain.

“How long have you known the Premiere was colluding with Lucifer?” Ezekiel clarified, smirking at the astonished look on Jughead’s face.

“How did you- are you working with him?” Jughead sputtered, perplexed and wary of the news unfolding before him.

Huffing out a laugh, Ezekiel shook his head. “How long have you known me, brother? You know I’m a servant of God. For a while now, I’ve had my suspicions that something was awry. Our mission to redeem souls is otherwise compromised.”

Dipping to the side, Ezekiel looked around Jughead to get a glimpse of Betty. She hadn’t moved a muscle or spoken a word yet and was still slightly immobilized in fear.

“Hello, there. I remember you from the waterfall the other day,” Ezekiel confirmed, offering a small sweet smile. “You can relax. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Betty tentatively stepped to the side, gazing up at Jughead in question. A firm nod from him explaining she could trust him was all she needed before moving all the way to his left and into plain sight.

“So, what are we up against, brother?” Jughead pressed, grabbing hold of Betty’s hand to keep their connection.

Ezekiel scanned the wood for a place to settle. Seeing none, he summoned three large boulders into the clearing on which they could sit. After finding a more comfortable position on top of the stone, he once again considered his company.

“I had suspected wrongdoing for a while but wasn’t sure which of the brothers I could trust and which were also compromised as well. You were on the top of my list of whom to confide in, but then when just you and I remained at the end of the summit last week, you seemed cold and resigned.”

Sitting on an adjacent rock and pulling Betty down next to him, Jughead looked over at Betty, turning up one corner of his lip before addressing his friend again.

“I already knew Betty had awakened when the summit met,” he confessed. “Or at least I believed it was her. I was distant because I did not want to reveal myself and my suspicions.”

From his side, he could sense Betty’s gaze boring a hole into the side of his head. He wasn’t brave enough to look over at her, still awkward in regards to his unfamiliar feelings and behavior. 

“I felt a- connection to her that I couldn’t explain and I sensed that she was inherently good. Before I sentenced her soul to nothingness, I had to know. I had to know that it was the absolute right choice and as soon as I met her, I knew it wasn’t.

Ezekiel nodded as if he could read between the lines of Jughead’s story. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he looked over at Betty with utter respect and regard.

“Jughead and I have respect for lives and souls. I can’t say the same for all our brethren. If he speaks on your behalf and says your Awakening is no threat to our true mission, then you should not fear for your safety in my presence.”

For the first time since their encounter, Betty relaxed her posture a bit. Exhaling, her shoulders sank down and she relaxed her core, muscles throbbing from the pent up tension she held.

“Thank you, Ezekiel. I can’t say I understand all of this. I’m still processing everything in my visions and -“

“Visions?” he interrupted curiously, scooting forward closer to speak lower. “What have you seen?”

The next few moments passed with Betty and Jughead recounting the events of the past few days in detail. Throughout, Ezekiel nodded periodically but mostly remained off-put and stoic, occasionally glancing away in thought. When they finished, no one spoke for a bit, digesting the information and processing the details.

“Your visions are prophetic in nature and the magic you conjured, Angelic. The prophecy books are stored with the genealogy texts on level 5. Perhaps if we can figure out your connection to all this we can find a way to prevent it from happening,” Ezekiel reasoned.

“Why is your Premiere doing this? If he was sworn to help souls, how has the purpose fallen since the beginning?”

Ezekiel shuddered and rubbed his palms back and forth on his legs. Raising a hand he conjured a bottle and three glasses. Jughead raised a brow at his friend as he didn’t usually indulge or imbibe, but if any occasion called for it, he supposed this was it.

“What happened with Dante was not an accident,” he confessed pouring the amber liquid into the glasses and passing them around. 

“It has been prophesied long ago that an Awakening would bring about the apocalypse and in turn, another would end it. When Dante was returned to Earth, there was panic here over the implications. After nothing happened except more excess sin and the Shadowmen were created, things settled down and it was assumed it was not his Awakening that began things. This was a gross misconception.”

Around the stones, they sipped the liquid, warming their bones and calming their nerves. Betty especially needed the liquid courage to brace herself for what was coming. Was she here to  _ start the apocalypse  _ and not to stop it? Taking another large gulp, she looked up at Jughead who he been watching her carefully. He placed a palm on her knee and bumped her shoulder with his to relax her. Betty offered a small smile before turning back to Ezekiel’s story.

“The Awakening has begun with Dante. The Premiere and Lucifer had sent him back to Earth after witnessing all the depravity to spread sin to bring more souls to purgatory. The Premiere convinced God for the need of Shadowmen to help souls, but in actuality, he was condemning more to Hell, helping Lucifer build an army that rivals Heaven.”

Shuddering, Jughead wiped from the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks with his fingertips. Pushing off the rock he rose from his perch and began to pace.

“How many, Ezekiel?” he pressed. “How many souls has he acquired?”

Offering a wry smirk and tipping his glass, Ezekiel simply offered, “About a billion, my friend.”

“A billion?” Betty yelped. “As in one billion?”

Ezekiel just nodded and looked off into the distance.

“How many of us are compromised, Zeke?” Jughead interjected, bouncing his legs on the balls of his feet in anticipation of an answer he’s pretty sure he already knows.

“As far as I can tell it’s just us, Jug. But there could be a few more who haven’t been swayed. I can’t just approach them and ask without looking suspicious.”

Betty placed her glass down and pushed herself up from the rock. Her nerves were shot. One billion souls and counting in Lucifer’s army and she was supposed to put a stop to it.

On Earth, she wasn’t even allowed to ride her bike off her block. She never went shopping alone. She never drove a car. She never did anything remotely crazy. But now she was expected to face the devil himself?

As she walked a bit farther from their seats, she closed her eyes and tried to ground herself. She found a large old oak tree to press her back up against and looked up to the sky. How did God not know what was going on? Wasn’t he all-seeing and all-knowing? Would he help her end this madness before it began?

Her mind churned along with her stomach and she began to curl her hands into fists again, her nails threatening to pierce the skin there again. She felt the old familiar itch of frustration and wondered if she could conjure up a blade to help with the pain.

“Hey.” 

His soft voice drew her back to the here and now.

“You okay?” he asked softly, stepping in front of her so that her legs were between his own. Lightly, he picked up her hands to grasp her fingertips, hoping some form of connection would ease her fears.

Betty chortled at his word choice. 

“Am I okay? I’m dead and apparently some watered down form of angel who has prophetic visions and needs to stop one billion dead creepy crawlies from releasing Lucifer himself on Earth. Do you think I’m okay?” Betty lamented, the frustration in her voice mounting as her rant went on.

Jughead leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. His actions were surprising him more and more; not because he was performing them, but because they seemed to come so naturally.

“Not just you, Betty. You’re not alone in this,” he pleaded, willing her to understand. “You have me.”

“And me,” came Ezekiel’s voice from behind Jughead.

“And what if we can’t stop whatever it is that’s coming?” she wavered, confessing the underlying fear she’d been harboring.

Jughead shrugged and looked over to Ezekiel. “If we can’t, we can’t. But I’d say we have to try.”

Betty sighed and dropped her hands from his, bringing them up and around his neck instead, dropping her head into the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, allowing his clasped fists to rest on her lower back and pulled her in until she was flush against him.

“So what’s the plan?” she whispered into his skin, breathing in deeply and willing her breathing to match his.

“Zeke and I agree. We need to get into the texts stored on level 5. We have to descend.”

Nodding into his chest she pushed herself back and looked pointedly at him.

“Okay. But first, I want to say goodbye to my mother. She wasn’t the best, but she’s all I have and if I’m going to be obliterated tonight, I’d at least like to say goodbye.”

Jughead nodded and looked over at his friend who offered a small nod as well. 

“Alright. Then to Elm Street we go,” Jughead agreed, raising a palm and transforming the forest scene before them into that of the Cooper living room.

Floral drapes and beige couches replaced the colorful leaves and grayed stones they had been surrounded by all afternoon. To their surprise, Alice was in the sitting room, and she was not alone.

“Betty!” Veronica breathed happily. “You’re here! I was so worried when you weren’t at school!”

“Hey, V,” she smiled back, happy she’d get to say goodbye to Veronica as well. “I’m good. Everything is - fine.”

“Elizabeth, why weren’t you at school and who are these-“ Alice’s haze was piercing and her tone accusatory. Midway through what he was sure was a perfectly planned rant, Jughead snapped his fingers and halted her words. A new, more warm smile appeared on her face.

“Elizabeth, so nice to see you and your friend. Welcome, Jughead.” Alice grinned almost maniacally. 

Betty chuckled and looked over at Jughead who couldn’t repress the small, cocky smile forming on his face. Shaking her head, Betty rolled her eyes.

“Where were you with that little snappy trick when I was alive?” she teased.

As they laughed, the air of the room shifted. Veronica and Alice’s eyes both shot to the front of the house and their posture grew ramrod straight. Slowly, both began to walk towards the front door.

“Mom? V?” Betty called, neither responding as if in a trance.

“Uh, guys?” Ezekiel said, pulling back a curtain. “You should probably check this out.”

Out in the street stood 2 Shadowmen, a line of people stretching down the block. As they came to each one, they examined their eyes for any sign of motion or alertness that may signal an Awakening. They watched three souls moved through the line and then the men came to the fourth. 

She was a small, blonde teen about Betty’s size. Though her eyes didn’t flicker, the men exchanged a glance. With the utterance of a word and the flick of a wrist, the girl exploded into gray dust and was swept away by a gust of wind.

Betty slapped her hand across her mouth, willing herself not to scream and give them away. Her eyes bulged and the room spun. Jughead placed a finger up to her reminding her to stay silent as they watched another young blonde turn to ash as well.

Dropping the curtain Ezekiel looked to Jughead with deep concern.

“You said she saw him in her vision and it seemed too real. It seems as if he did see her as well and isn’t taking any chances that she may stop his invasion by eliminating any and all possible souls. Getting to level 5 won’t be easy, ne’er impossible.”

“Jug!” Betty interrupted, voice filled with panic gesturing toward the front foyer where Veronica and Alice were headed towards the front door. “My Mom And V. Can you stop them?”

Jughead looked pensive but shook his head. “If I release them I release everyone out there and they will know something is going on. If I transport them, they will just be met by another inquisition.”

Betty looked frenzied and ran over towards the door. Barring it with her body, she urged her mother and Veronica to go back into the living room. Alice shoved at her, pulling in her waist and arms trying to get through. Jughead and Ezekiel ran over to restrain the two women, covering their mouths and they yelled for Betty to let them go.

“Betty! If they hear their screaming from outside we are in big trouble here!” Ezekiel warmed her.

Frantically she looked around. She couldn’t let her mother go out there and face the possibility of obliteration. 

“I just need a minute to think,” she painted out nervously. “I just-“

“We have to go!” Alice screamed through a gap in Jughead’s fingers as he grappled with her wriggling body.

“Just stop!” Betty screamed without thought. “Just wake up!” 

The house went silent and the struggle subsided. Alice and Veronica looked at Betty with wide eyes before pushing away from both Shadowmen. 

“Betty?” Alice panted, stepping across the foyer to embrace her. “Where are we? Who- who are these men? Did they hurt you?”

“B?” Veronica piped in quietly after peering outside. “What’s going on out there? I saw…” she shook her head back and forth, lips pressed in a tight line.

Ezekiel and Jughead looked on at each other wide eyed and slack jawed. 

“Are they?” Ezekiel asked him.

Looking towards Betty and then back to Alice and Veronica, Jughead stood amazed. 

“What? What’s wrong with them?” Betty asked, still dumbfounded and shaken, processing the situation. 

Stepping forward, Jughead gripped Betty’s elbow softly and leaned in quietly towards her. “Betty, they’re awake.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you still reading!  
Thanks to my wonderful beta reader @jandjsalmon.
> 
> I HAD to toss Sam and Dean in there- I mean, it’s purgatory, but they won’t be back- not a crossover fic. Though, that could be fun in the future!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you reading along. I spent a lot of time on this story and it’s appreciated. 
> 
> Thanks also, as always, to the most wonderful beta, @jandjsalmon. I don’t have a computer, so I type on Docs and my phone and it’s ALWAYS changing my words, tenses, and lowercase letters and she always patiently fixes my mess!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for updates! @likemereckless

Epidermal Macabre by Theodore Roethke

Indelicate is he who loathes

The aspect of his fleshy clothes, --

The flying fabric stitched on bone,

The vesture of the skeleton,

The garment neither fur nor hair,

The cloak of evil and despair,

The veil long violated by

Caresses of the hand and eye.

Yet such is my unseemliness:

I hate my epidermal dress,

The savage blood's obscenity,

The rags of my anatomy,

And willingly would I dispense

With false accouterments of sense,

To sleep immodestly, a most

Incarnadine and carnal ghost.

**Earth**

**Cooper Household**

**19 years prior**

She was going to do it this time. She was actually going to walk away from him and never look back. Alice sat on the edge of the tub in their bathroom, hands braced on her knees and head pressed between them.

Her cheek throbbed where his hand had made contact. Looking up slowly and peeking in the mirror she could see the faint red imprint of a hand. It would fade, it always did. He was careful only to use open-handed slaps when the blows were above her neckline.

Glancing at her watch again she began to nervously bounce her legs on the balls of her feet. Two more minutes. 

When she had first met Hal it seemed like the sun was finally shining down upon her. Alice had grown up in the shadows, her family never present and constantly scrounging for food or a place to stay. She had been called a street rat, trailer trash, and a welfare baby more than she cared to remember.

She was at the library one evening, not to study, but because she desperately wanted to get warm when she saw him. He smiled softly in the lamplight that was cast over him from his table and she smiled back.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Alice retreated back into the book she had taken out.  _ Fine Print in America: A History of US News & Editorial _ , when she heard the deep sound of a throat being cleared.

Glancing up from her book she recognized the boy from a few tables over was now standing opposite her. Glancing around the library, Alice saw there was no one else studying who they might interrupt.

He gestured towards the empty chair and she nodded nonchalantly, inviting him to join her.

“I’m Hal,” he simpered, voice cracking at the introduction.

“Alice,” she spoke, closing her book and offering him a small smile.

They talked for two hours. He was also interested in journalism and astronomy and hoped to stay in Oradell after college and open a paper of his own. His family did well and they were paying his tuition. He didn’t care that Alice lived in a trailer and didn’t attend finishing school. He said she was intelligent and funny and she drank in his praise, deeply.

Before the night ended she was pressed up against a back shelf bookcase and a date was set for the following evening.

In retrospect, there were signs; the way he spoke about waitresses in restaurants and other families at church. But Alice was so happy to be loved and have a home she ignored it all. It wasn’t until their wedding where he started to show his more violent tendencies to her.

Biting at her fingernails Alice checked her watch again. Three minutes had passed. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, eyes gazing up at the ceiling. Everything would be fine. It would work out and she would leave and never look back.

Standing from the tub ledge Alice walked over to the bathroom vanity and looked down. A tiny pink plus sign flared up at her from the testing stick on the marble counter. 

Pregnant.

How could this happen? She was so careful. How could she run with a baby?

Her works spun and she clutched at her stomach. She couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and afford it the same hunger she herself had felt. Hal wanted children. Maybe this would be good. Maybe once they had a family and we’re complete he’d be happier and less aggressive.

Sticking her chin out and straightening her shoulders, Alice opened the bathroom door and took the test with her. Everything would be fine she told herself.

**Cooper Household**

**Riverdale**

**Purgatory Level 1**

“Betty, they’re awake.”

Jughead’s words snapped Betty out of her trance and back into the moment. Looking up at her mother from their embrace she could see the terror in her eyes. She shifted her sights to Veronica who had pressed her back up against the wall, hand gripping a cane from the umbrella stand nearby as if to use it as a weapon if necessary.

“Mom,” Betty sobbed, adding more fervor to the hug. “It’s really you.”

“Of course it’s me, Elizabeth.” Alice murmured into her hair. “Who else would I be?”

Clearing his throat, Jughead broke the spell of the moment.

“Not that I’m not all about heartfelt moments, but we need to get away from the front door and windows.”

Betty bobbed her head in agreement and wrapped an arm around her mother’s back, guiding her into the living room. Veronica remained plastered against the door and when Ezekiel tried to usher her in she brandished the cane in front of him.

“V,” Betty called listlessly from the sofa, “it’s alright. Come sit down.”

Eyeing the men carefully once more, Veronica inched her way over to the couch and sat down, Jughead and Ezekiel followed suit. 

“Betty, what is going on?” Alice questioned, still holding her daughter's hands in her own.

“I’m not even sure where to start, Mom,” Betty replied, offering her hands a small squeeze.

Jughead sighed and stood again, placing a palm against Alice and Veronica’s foreheads.

“I cannot rehash this story again,” he insisted. “You’re going to feel warmth run through you and when it’s done, you’ll know what we know.”

Jabbering a few words into the air, Jughead kept his palm pressed against them both. Their posture stiff and rigid as if frozen in place. Ezekiel began casting small chants around the room. Betty had looked over at him in question and he had whispered, “Soundproofing the house.”

After a moment, Jughead removed his hands and left Alice and Veronica dazed on the couch. 

“It’s a lot to process,” he sympathized. “Finding out…”

“That I’m dead?” Veronica finished. “That part is honestly the least surprising of this whole shebang.”

Alice still hadn’t moved or spoken since Jughead had shared their memories. She remained paralyzed in her seat, her breathing ragged and shallow.

Soothing a hand across her back again, Betty tried to bring Alice back to the here and now. 

“Mom?”

“Was it, Hal?” Alice asked locking eyes with Jughead. “Is Betty here because I couldn’t… because I wasn’t strong enough…”

“No, Alice,” he reassured her. “It wasn’t, Hal.”

He realized he was only telling her a half-truth and eventually she’d remember the horrific details of her untimely demise, but for now, he needed them to focus.

“Betty,” Alice wailed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for all that you went through and that I didn’t stand up to your father.”

“Mom,” Betty began, shaking her head softly. “I can’t do this right now. There’s just... I have too much on my plate to even hash out 18 years worth of anger. For now, can we just put everything aside and focus on literal Hell on Earth?”

Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, Alice chortled at Betty. 

“You always were focused and strong, Elizabeth. So, what is the plan then? How do we defeat the devil?”

“We?” Betty marveled at her mother.

“You don’t think I’m letting my daughter take on Satan without me, do you?” Alice scoffed, standing from the couch and straightening out her clothes.

“And you,” she shot, pointing at Jughead, “don’t think that I missed the part where you kissed my daughter.”

Putting his hands up in defense Jughead took a step back from Alice. 

“That was to protect her,” he explained, uncertain of how he could possibly be terrified of a mortal soul when he himself was more powerful.

“Maybe,” Alice conceded. “But you enjoyed it far too much for my liking.”

Veronica puckered her lips together and raised her brows, nodding at Betty from her chair.

“Atta girl, B. He’s kinda hot in an ‘I’m trying to look like I don’t care, but I really do’ early 1990s way.”

Ezekiel chuckled from where he stood by the curtains, periodically checking on the scene outside that was still playing out.

Jughead tossed his hand up in frustration. “Could we please just focus on the matter at hand. We need to get down to level five to the Relictorium and figure out how Betty has the ability to perform angelic magic.”

Alice pursed her lips in thought before grinning wildly back at him.

“You, Jugman, or Jughead, whatever your name is…”

“A little respect,” he said, feigning being wounded. “I am part angel after all.”

Alice waved a hand at him and rolled her eyes, continuing with her original thought.

“With your magic can you replicate my house from Earth exactly?”

Jughead looked at her questioningly, waving his open arms around as if to show her this already was a replica.

“I mean possessions and all,” she clarified.

Jughead folded his arms across his chest and sighed. “I’m sure I could, but I don’t see how it would help us right now.”

Alice clapped her hands excitedly and smiled widely at the two men in the room.

“Growing up my father showed me a family tapestry that had been passed on for more generations than you could imagine,” she explained.

“I always wondered how the fabric could have even survived throughout all those years,” Alice continued, a far off look in her eyes as she reflected on her childhood.

“We didn’t have much, but this was important to my family. I remember them telling me that it must continue to be passed down at all costs.”

Alice paused, laughing a bit to herself and looking over at Betty.

“I always thought, ‘how can they care so much about that dumb wall hanging and not about me?’ It wasn’t until my parents were gone and I was cleaning their trailer did it hit me.”

Alice inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, excitement pulling throughout her skin.

“I touched it, planning on discarding it. I wanted nothing of my parents at all. When I ran my fingers over the fabric there was this connection- a  _ need _ . I had to keep it. I threw every last item of theirs out, but not that tapestry. I took it home and placed it in the attic.”

Veronica was growing restless from where she sat and she rose to look outside near Ezekiel.

“That’s a super touching story, Mrs. C,” she murmured, “but how will an old blanket help.”

Alice’s eyes fluttered with excitement. 

“It’s a tapestry of our early family tree. If it has what you’re looking for, then you can just search the Relictorium for the texts by that author.”

Ezekiel, Betty, and Jughead all exchanged looks of surprise and Ezekiel nodded impressed. 

“If this tapestry exists then I am led to believe that we are still on the right path,” Ezekiel said.

Raising his arms and uttering, “Imito,” the objects around the living room began to slowly transform. The glass coffee table became a warm, worn oak, and the floral curtains a gray and yellow chevron. Wall sconces with candles appeared as well as warm blankets over the back of the sofas.

“Alright, Alice,” Ezekiel grinned. “Let’s find that tapestry.”

Clapping her hands, Alice headed towards the staircase with Ezekiel on her heels.

“Oooh, I feel like Nancy Drew,” Alice squealed all giddy as she took the steps two at a time.

Betty shuffled over to Jughead's side and sunk into him. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders he pulled her close.

Veronica eyed them carefully, winking at Betty before she spoke.

“I’m going to help them upstairs and leave you two to…” she waved her hands around midair, “whatever this is.”

Betty blushed and Jughead swallowed hard, both avoiding making eye contact as Veronica ascended the staircase. When her last Louboutin shoe was out of sight, Jughead dropped his arm from around her shoulders and fiddled with his fingers.

“Your mother is taking this whole thing surprisingly well,” he conceded.

“Alice Cooper is a formidable foe,” Betty explained, taking his hand and pulling him towards the stairs. “C’mon. I want to see if my room is the same.”

Jughead followed her upstairs and was inundated by a sea of pink.

“Perhaps I should offer you the use of a color wheel to redecorate,” he teased, sitting on the edge of her floral comforter. “There are other colors besides pink, you know.”

“Shut up,” Betty shot back at him, grinning at his teasing. “You know damn well my mother decorated this room, not me.”

Betty walked around the small space touching knickknacks here and there. All of these souvenirs had been a part of her life and seemed so important and now they were just things, meaningless.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her quietly, leaning back on his arms and watching her, completely enraptured by her movements.

“I’m thinking… this was my life. I spent so much time locked inside these four walls, safe and untouched and look where it got me.”

Betty huffed out a small, humorless laugh and picked up the stuffed cat near the edge of her bed, sitting down next to Jughead and squeezing the animal tight.

“You must have had some happiness or fond memories, surely?” he insisted, unwilling to believe her whole life was tragic.

Betty placed the cat back down on her pillow and glanced down at her hands fiddling with a small piece of fallen fuzz off the animal.

“Of course there were happy times. I had some friends and we took vacations. I loved my sister,” she smiled up at him. “You would like her. She’s such a beacon of light and peace.”

She took a deep breath and leaned forward to reach under her mattress, pulling out the small blade that was there.

“But sometimes, things were overwhelming. The expectations too high, the loneliness too deep, or the fights too loud,” she confessed rolling up her sleeves.

“Those memories are in here, too.”

Jughead gently grasped her elbows and glanced down at her fading scars. He had seen them before, but her showing him them here in this setting somehow seemed more intimate.

“We all find ways of coping with things that are too much,” he offered sweetly, breaking eye contact only to lean down and place small kisses on each of the purple lines.

“All I know is that you are strong and you are brave, Betty. Now that you can just be you here, you’re free. Most people would have crumbled over the last few days, but you’re resilient. That’s how I know we are going to win this fight. We can’t lose if you’re on our side.”

Readjusting his gaze to her face once again, he found her deep green eyes pooled with tears and something else, something unreadable. Softly, she placed a palm on his cheek and traced her thumb down and across his lips.

_ “Don’t think, Betty,”  _ she told herself as she leaned forward and placed her lips softly against his. The kiss was chaste and light, no more than a small brush at first. The rush that traveled through her and coated her in warmth was unlike anything she’d ever felt.

He hadn’t objected and seemed to be following her cues, so she pressed her lips more firmly now, gently taking his lower lip between her own with even, languid pressure.

At first, he was too dumbfounded to move, but as the moments passed his consciousness clicked back into effect and he brought his hand up to the base of her neck, fingers brushing gently under her jaw. He opened his mouth to allow her more access to his lips and tilted his face to the side for a better angle.

As their lips glided along one another’s, their teeth began to nip and graze as well. He was amazed at how pliable her mouth was under his. He pressed her more firmly against him and moved his fingers into her hair, enjoying how soft it felt in his hands. 

Craving more, Jughead opened his mouth and allowed his tongue to brush against her lips, asking for entrance. Betty quickly obliged and soon their tongues met in a slow, lazy tangle, both adjusting to the newness of the feeling.

Breathless, he pulled back first resting his forehead against her own. Betty’s grin stretched ear to ear and her palm still rested on his cheek.

“Wow,” she breathed. “So that’s what all the fuss was about.” 

Jughead pulled his forehead from hers and laughed at her obvious bewilderment.

“I’d have to say that this is one time I agree with mankind,” he replied.

Biting her lip nervously, Betty dropped her hand from his face and grabbed his fingertips instead.

“I hope that was alright. I just- if I’m going to get obliterated fairly soon, I wanted to do that one more time and do it right,” she confessed.

Offering her fingers a light squeeze back and playfully pulling on the edge of her ponytail to watch it stretch down and spring back up, Jughead grinned across at her.

“That was definitely more than alright. And for the record, you’re not going to get obliterated.”

“How do you know?” she demanded. “This whole mission is insane!”

“Because Betty. I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you. No matter what. Do you hear me?” he asked, tipping her chin up so her eyes met his.

She nodded before leaning forward and pressing her nose into his neck, their arms wrapped tight around one another.

A small knock at the door interrupted their moment and Betty scooted back before muttering, “Come in.”

Alice, Veronica, and Ezekiel entered, Veronica grinning at Betty’s obviously swollen lips and Alice raising an eyebrow. Ezekiel looked away flustered before holding up the object in hand.

“We found it! The tapestry was upstairs as Alice had promised,” he confirmed excitedly. “And you will never guess who is on it.”

“Who?” Jughead asked curiously, rising from the bed to grab the fabric from his brother.

The two unrolled it across the bed and Betty stood up to make more room. There at the bottom of the tapestry, was a name Jughead Jones had heard spoken many times before.

“Gusion,” he said in wonderment looking to Ezekiel. “She is of Gusion’s bloodline.”

Ezekiel grinned back in excitement. “Yes! This explains the visions! He knew this would happen and left the tapestry so we’d know what she spoke was in fact true.”

Veronica stuck out one hip and folded her arms across her chest.

“So, Who is the Gusion guy? He another one of your brothers?”

Chuckling and eyes twinkling with excitement, Ezekiel shook his head. 

“Oh, no no. Gusion was far more important than either of us. He was one of the original fallen angels.”

Betty curled up her lip in disgust. “So, he was a  _ bad  _ guy? Why is everyone I’m related to a bad guy?”

“No!” Jughead interjected, grasping her hand once again. “He was definitely not a bad guy, Betty. Gusion went down with Lucifer on purpose. That had always been a theory, but this confirms it. He knew that this was the only way to stop the upcoming events. He foresaw it.”

Alice glanced back and forth between them all. “Soooo, what happens now?” she asked.

“Now,” Jughead explained, “Betty and I head down to the Relictorium and find his prophecies on how to stop the apocalypse from coming.”

Out of the blue, Ezekiel’s body went rigid and his eyes shot up to Jughead’s who gaze matched his own. Both men held themselves tightly and panic shone across their features.

“Jughead,” Betty whispered.

“It’s the council,” he explained. “They are summoning us for a Gathering.”

“You can’t go Jughead. Azriel will confront you about finding Betty in the woods with you. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

Jughead bit his lip and nodded, face pursed in concentration. “They’ll know either way, Zeke. If I don’t show up that’s pretty telling.”

“What if I stall and say you’re following a lead? It will buy time for you and Betty to get to the prophecies.”

Jughead turned toward Betty and smoothed a hand down her cheek. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? I can go alone,” he asked.

“I’m coming with you,” she said firmly, the fire in her eyes ablaze with determination.

“Okay,” Jughead conceded. “We can’t teleport now which will make things harder. When the council summons we can only teleport there. We have to open a portal instead, but it needs to be back by my house within the protective barrier I have there. No one can sense we are not on level one anymore.”

Alice, who had remained relatively quiet the whole time could no longer hold her tongue. 

“You can’t just expect Betty to waltz out the front door when they’re turning blondes to ash clouds, can you? I mean, this isn’t a slap on the wrist we’re talking about, it’s her soul. Her entire existence.”

From the corner of the room, Veronica piped up.

“I can help with that. Let me go out there, get checked, and then Betty can leave the house, Jughead can disguise her hair color, and himself, and then they can get to the woods undetected.”

Jughead and Ezekiel nodded in agreement and Betty shot them dirty looks, walking over to Veronica and embracing her.

“V, you can’t,” Betty reasoned. “They will know you're awake and they will….” she trailed off, unable to finish.

“I know. I know, Betty. That’s why you’re going to put me back to sleep. You woke me up, you can put me back.”

Betty pulled back to examine her friend’s face. Veronica’s trust in her showed through and Betty was glad to have her at this moment.

“V,” she said hugging her tightly. “When this is all done I’m going to wake you again. I won’t let you drift away.”

Veronica squeezes her back, sniffling into her shoulder. They held each other like that for a few more moments before Veronica nodded to show she was ready.

Betty closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She hadn’t needed an angelic word before, just a clear thought with good intentions. Perhaps that could work again now.

_ “Sleep. Sleep.”  _ Betty whispered this to herself over and over again as when she opened her eyes, Veronica was back in her trance. Robotically, she left the room and headed downstairs and out front to join the others in line. They watched from the window as she was checked, Betty holding her breath tightly until her turn was up and she came back to the house.

“We should leave her asleep for now,” Jughead suggested. “We don’t want to raise any more suspicions and since she came back here there’s a good chance no one will come to check the house for you, Alice.”

“I’ll watch over her,” Alice agreed. “And you watch over my Betty.”

Betty ran over and clutched at her mother, the two hugging fiercely in a constricting grip before parting.

Looking over at Jughead, Betty held out a hand to him.

“You ready to descend into the depths of Hell,” he asked, taking her hand and linking their fingers once more.

Betty grinned back at him and flashed him a toothy smile, quite terrified of the journey that was set before them but trying not to let on.

“Wow, Jughead. You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you still reading 🤗. There are only 3 more chapters to go after this! I’ll continue posting one each day!
> 
> Some of the scenes are loosely based on images from Dante’s work.
> 
> Thanks to @jandjsalmon for her editing!
> 
> Feel free to leave suggestions or comments! It keeps me writing and gives me new ideas!
> 
> Follow me for fic updates and recommendations on Tumblr: @likemereckless

Excerpt from Darkness by Lord Byron

The populous and the powerful was a lump,

Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—

A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.

The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,

And nothing stirr’d within their silent depths;

Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,

And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp’d

They slept on the abyss without a surge—

The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,

The moon, their mistress, had expir’d before;

The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air,

And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need

Of aid from them—She was the Universe.

**Cooper Household**

**Riverdale**

**Purgatory Level 1**

The build up to this journey seemed to take days. The final details were set. Veronica ensured Betty could exit without being noticed. Ezekiel would join his brethren and cover for Jughead’s absence. All told, Jughead figured they only had a few short hours before they realized he had defected.

“So, we get to the woods, open a portal, and then make our way down to the Relictorium,” Betty confirmed, tugging on a pair of white canvas sneakers.

“I will delay the others as long as I can. You two need to get back here as quickly as possible. Jughead’s home will no longer be safe once they realize he has figured out their plan,” Ezekiel reiterated, the intensity of his eyes conveying exactly how serious he was.

Alice wandered over to where Betty stood and pulled her now dark-haired daughter into a tight embrace. Placing a kiss on the top of her head, she breathed deeply. “You come back to me, Betty,” she begged. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

Betty squeezed her mother back as though it may be their last embrace before stepping back and nodding to Jughead.

Wrinkling up his nose, he grinned down at Betty.

“What?” she asked, not realizing how anything at this moment could warrant such a smile.

“Nothing,” he chortled self consciously. “I just miss your blonde hair already.” 

Jughead smiled sweetly and Betty swooned and beamed back up at him, a light blush coloring the apples of her cheeks.

“Seriously?” Alice interrupted with a roll of her eyes. “First, apocalypse. Then you can sit around and make moon eyes at each other. Now, go.”

Tightening her ponytail one last time, Betty looked up at Jughead expectantly.

“You ready?” she asked, voice tinged with anticipation.

Jughead shook his head which was covered in a mess of curls that were blonde and wild. “As ready as one can ever be to go up against Lucifer.”

**New York, New York**

**Earth**

**6 months prior**

Some families were sitting around festively decorated tables, pumpkins and cornucopias strategically placed between china place settings, passing the cranberry sauce and carving a turkey. The delicious aromas wafting from their kitchens and setting their taste buds ablaze were only overshadowed by the warmth of their company and the shared thanks they had expressed prior to the arrival of the meal. For many families, each Thanksgiving played out like a scene from a holiday film. This was not the case for Veronica Lodge.

The music from the iPod dock sent a techno beat around the penthouse where Veronica sat, perched on a plush purple sofa, glass of prosecco in hand. She had chosen the high necked black blouse with a fluffed collar and short black skirt because it could parallel a modern-day pilgrim outfit. Trays of takeout were set up on the buffet across the room and plates were littered across the surfaces of The Pembrooke. Looking around she deemed it a successful party, but still, she felt hollow.

Throwing parties was second nature for her. Call a caterer, hire a decorator, have more food and drinks than needed. It was simple. It was a checklist. It was something she could control. When her parties started and her guests smiled and danced with whimsy, she felt satisfied and full. But those feelings were short-lived. No matter how many galas she attended, parties she hosted, or magazine covers she appeared on, she could never fill the void that was an inking black scribble throughout her chest.

It was Thanksgiving and she should be curled up with her mother and father, warming herself by a fire, gorging herself on pie and making family memories. Her mother was skiing in the Swiss Alps, her “instructor” claiming it was a snowfall she couldn’t miss. Her father had business in Atlantic City. He claimed it was a dinner for a wealthy overseas client, but more than likely it was unpacking shady merchandise from the back of an unmarked train car.

“Ron!” Nick St. Clair, Veronica’s long time family friend called from the other side of the room. “Get over here, girl! You’re missing all the good stuff!”

Never one to disappoint, Veronica plastered a synthetic smile on her lips and strutted over to some of her closest friends, their parents also “working” on the holiday. Reaching out his arm, Nick pulled her down into his lap and peppered a few kisses onto her shoulder. They weren’t dating and weren’t exclusive, but more often than not they’d find themselves drowning their sorrows in each other.

“That jingle jangle wasn’t as potent as usual,” Chelsea said from her seat on the floor. Filing her nails with a leopard nail file she sighed and looked around at the crew. “I need a kick to numb this whole happy holiday vibe the world is projecting at our broken ass families.”

Veronica nodded and pursed her lips. “I hear you, girl. Pretty sure my Dad is unpacking drugs and my Mom is unpacking her trainer right now. Happy Thanksgiving to me.”

Her friends chuckled around their circle, more out of obligation than actual mirth. They all may be privileged in the wealth department, but in terms of affections they could relate. As the laughter subsided, Nick pulled a black case from his bag next to the chair on which they sat.

“Well, it just so happens I have something to help us numb the pain of neglect,” he boasted, unrolling the case and revealing a mirror and a baggie of white powder.

“Sweet,” Chelsea chirped. “You always bring the best shit.”

Veronica set her smile into a grim line. She was never into the heavier drugs. She had set her limit at jingle jangle, just enough to take the edge off and let her feel free, but with minimal risk.

As her friends each took their turn, sniffing and snorting around the small coffee table, Nick nudged Veronica’s arm and nodded to the set up before her.

“It’s like euphoria, Ronnie,” he promised, ruffling the collar of her blouse. “You’ll never feel better. All our parent’s shit, and the empty space, it all gets wiped away, at least for a while.”

Her friends were frequent fliers, used to the potent mixtures Nick and his wealth could provide. Veronica bit her lip. She was tired of feeling numb and alone. Sucking in a deep breath, she rose from Nick’s lap and kneeled before the cherrywood table, scattered calls of, “Yes!” and “Popping her cherry,” rang throughout the group. After one more deep inhale and exhale, Veronica leaned forward, mimicking the motions she’d seen her friends perform countless times, and inhaled the tiny granules.

Nick was right. The first moments after were euphoria, but after that, there was nothing. Unresponsive, her friends scattered. 

At least when you’re flitting through purgatory you can’t feel the numb.

  
  


**Entryway to Purgatory Levels**

**Riverdale**

**Purgatory Level 1**

Jughead and Betty slipped out of the house unnoticed, thanks to his disguise and Veronica’s ploy earlier. Now, in the woods by his home, they prepared to open the portal to the trail that would lead them down into the depths of limbo.

“Do not leave my side,” Jughead commanded, sending a pointed look Betty’s way. “And if I tell you to hide, you hide. Do you understand?”

Betty nodded, gulping down a mouthful of air in anticipation. “This will work, Jug. It’s fine. We will be in and out.” Gripping his hand, she offered it a light squeeze in reassurance.

Jughead shuffled back and forth on his feet, the portal not yet opened before him. So much had drastically changed in such a short period of time and his psyche was still trying to process it all.

“Betty,” he choked out, voice cracking like a teenager. “I just wanted you to know that while I may be drawn more strongly to you and you to me because you are, in fact, angelic in nature, that my feelings, our feelings, I think, are very real.”

Swallowing hard he continued, his vocal cords trembling and betraying his normally collected exterior.

“Things have come on faster because of the nature of our being, the angelic blood, but that doesn’t make it any less real.”

Jughead began to shift on the balls of his feet, his eyes trailing through the foliage, still fall in color from Betty’s earlier request.

“What- I mean- What I’m trying to say is that I’ve always tried to be good. Being here as a partial angel and not a fully exalted angel from Heaven has always been an existence I struggled with. I wanted a lifestyle of absolute devotion and could never appreciate the desires in which my brethren indulged. But now? Here with you? I feel strangely enraptured and content.”

Betty dropped the hand she was holding and Jughead recoiled in rejected. Quickly, Betty placed her hand on his cheek, drifting her fingers across his lips and offering him a reassuring smile before pressing her lips to his once more in a chaste promise.

“Jughead Jones,” Betty smiled wildly. “That was beautiful and poetic and when this is all over, we are going to explore every unangelic, indulgent scenario we possibly can.”

Jughead swallowed again, this time with an audible gulp, garnering a laugh from Betty and a shake of her head.

“Just open the damned portal, Jug, before we don’t make it down there.”

Waving an arm, a rip in the fabric of the sky appeared again.

Pulling back the portal opening slightly, Jughead paused to give her one more opportunity to back out and run. After a moment of stillness, he explained their next steps.

“The trail leads through level 2 which is similar to level one, followed by the levels for pride, envy, and wrath that we need to make our way through from here. It’s a direct and dark descent downward and we should be able to go without stopping. Wrath may be the only place where we need to make sure we are extra careful.”

Betty squared her shoulders and entwined their fingers. “Well then, on we go.”

Stepping through the barrier, Betty found herself on a rocky, dark pathway. Small fire burning torches lit the trail barely enough to see the critters skirting back and forth over her sneakers as she tread slowly down the steep pathway.

Placing a hand on his back, Betty steadied herself and willed herself not to look down to see exactly what type of creatures she was stepping on.

“Jughead,” she blanched. “I swear when we get out of here you better clear every undead cockroach off of level one because I can’t handle these giant bugs.”

“Duly noted,” he smirked, stepping over a particularly large slug on the dim trail.

They walked silently, keeping their footsteps light for what seemed like days, but was more like minutes in actuality. Betty swore that the nearby demons and souls must sense her presence and hear her heartbeat resounding like a snare drum throughout her chest.

“Jug?” she questioned tugging on his elbow. “If I’m dead, why do I still have a heartbeat?”

The pathway they were on began to thin. Up until now, they had been bordered by high rocky walls on each side that connected to the cave roof. Up ahead, Betty could see that the wall on their left cut down drastically and you could see out over it. They would need to be careful from this point out.

Recognizing the shift in geography as well, Jughead stopped his footsteps, wanting to answer her before they reached that point.

“Everything in purgatory level one is designed to mimic life. Your heart beats, you sleep, you eat food… it’s all an opportunity for a do-over. Repentance. Once you leave level 1 and descend, all of that disappears.”

Betty nodded and cast him a questioning side-eye.

“So… the souls down here? They are a little more desperate?”

Jughead grimaced before tilting his head to the side. He hated that Betty would have to bear witness to the depravity down there, but was glad she was finally recognizing the dangerous shift in climate.

“Desperate is one way of putting it. But, yes. They are tortured and receiving purification in the form of pain and punishment. They have nothing. No hope. They will lash out given the chance. You may not be prepared for what you are going to see.”

Turning away from her, Jughead latched onto her side and once again began their descent. As they reached the halved wall, light began to flood her irises once again. She willed herself not to gaze out over the side, but her curiosity got the best of her.

Giant stone pillars and archways glinted in the firelight in the wide opening below. Ornate and intricately carved sculptures stood like deities, open-mouthed and howling down at the figures below. The temperature dropped to a frigid point suddenly and Betty could see her breath in front of her. Goosebumps rose on her skin, in part from the cold and in part from the gruesome scene below.

Naked bodies struggled and heaved, pressed up against one another, giant slabs of shiny stone upon their backs. Climbing steps and peaks with the tremendous weight upon their backs, they moaned and cried and begged for forgiveness. Betty didn’t blink. She didn’t twitch. Immobilized she watched their perils and felt a shiver run up her spine.

“Pride,” Jughead whispered into her ear, his lips lingering there and warming her a bit. His arm hooked around her waist, pulling her away from the scene, her eyes following the movements of the men and women below until the last moment when they were finally back into a narrow, covered passageway again.

Sight drips could be heard as them temperature began to warm again and condensation clung and fell from the stalactites on the cave ceiling. Deep, rolling rumbles of groans and wallows echoed through the long tunnels, the cries unending in their desperation. 

Silent tears slipped down her cheeks as the tunnel pathway became steeper and steeper.

“Hey,” Jughead stopped, turning to grip her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you with me, Betty?”

Leaning into his touch she shuddered and sobbed silently, bobbing her head in affirmation. As she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, he pressed a hard kiss against her forehead and pulled her into a fierce hug. 

“We have to keep moving,” he said regretfully, tucking her into his side and heading forward.

The next level was dark and eerie, quieter than the one they had previously visited. Men and women of all ages, heights, and colors were cloaked in long gray robes, hoods covering most of their faces. In the flickers of the firelight, Betty could see their eyes sewn shut, barbed wire lacing an X across each eyelid.

“Envy?” she whispered into the darkness of the walls as they passed through the opening.

Jughead offered a curt nod and pulled her along. This next corridor was longer. The crunching beneath their feet seemed louder now. A large boulder sat on the pathway and Jughead climbed over first, carefully setting himself down on the other side, pulling her over behind him.

Betty landed heavy on her heels, the thud of her shoes hitting the stone echoing down the corridor and causing him pause. Gray dust fell upon his shoulder and, in a split instinctual decision, he tossed her back against the cave wall, covering her body with his as a giant stalactite plummeted from the ceiling and skewered the ground.

Betty’s breath blew from her chest rapidly as she examined the scene before her.

“Thanks,” she panted out. “I was almost a shish kabob.”

Quick and repetitive snaps resounded through the stone drawing Betty’s attention back down the pathway. The air began to warm now and the smell of rotten eggs began to fester in her nostrils. The sudden change in the thickness of the air was unexpected and her lungs took a moment to adjust. 

Climbing over the fallen gravel, they came up the final balcony leading toward their destination. A thin, fragile looking stone path connected their current whereabouts to that of the Relictorium.

“We can’t stand up and walk our way across this,” he explained, eyes locked on the thin bridge that connected them to their destination.

Swallowing visibly, Betty ran a finger across the cracking metamorphic slab. “How do you suggest we get across?”

“We need to army crawl, in a way. We can lay flush against the rock and hold onto the sides tightly,” Jughead explained, his voice wavering a bit in uncertainty.

“And if we fall?” Betty gulped, still warily examining the bridge.

“Well, you can’t die again so that’s something?” he joked, the mirth in his voice not reaching his eyes.

Betty rolled her eyes before slipping her jacket off her shoulders so the extra fabric wouldn’t get in the way.

“You should go first,” he whispered.

“You just want to look at my ass,” Betty countered, tossing him a smirk as she walked to the ledge.

“Well, if we do fall, that would be a great way to go,” Jughead replied helping her climb the black wall and onto the base of the bridge.

“Lay down and wrap your arms around the side,” he commanded. “And whatever you do, don’t look down.”

“Right.” Betty echoed. “Now that you said don’t look down, I definitely won’t look down.”

She began to shimmy her away across the rock bridge, silently wishing it wasn’t too dangerous to use his teleportation abilities at the time. The stone was hot beneath her skin, like warmed lava rock. Her arms and face were now streaked with gray dust from the pebbles she crawled across. Tiny rocks and dust fell from the pillars as she settled her weight on them and slowly inches across.

Once her whole body was on the bridge she could feel Jughead climb on behind her. 

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

She replayed the mantra in her head over and over again. As she reached the center arch, that became impossible. The bridge was thinner and she tightened her grip. Tipping her face to the side, Betty examined the terrible scene below.

The snaps she had heard earlier were the sound of whips. Phantom robed figures lashed out at the bodies below, piled on top of one another and writhing in agony. 

It was hard to see. Most the the room was covered in a cloud of thick, black smoky ash. Now fully over the cavern, the smoke rose up filling Betty’s lungs and clouding her sight a bit. She suppressed urge to cough and give away their presence. 

The hum that traveled through the cave was actually whispers. Betty could make out their words now as she lay over them. Be gentle. Be kind. Be delicate. Each soft whisper punctuated with the lash of a whip.

“Betty,” she heard before she felt a hand on her leg. “Betty, we have to keep moving.”

Ignoring the burning in her lungs, Betty pushed forward, the stone bridge trembling beneath her weight. After what seemed like an hour, she reached the other side and stood, quickly bracing herself against the cave wall breathing out a heavy sigh of relief.

Though he didn’t touch her, she felt his presence behind her and turned. 

“We’re here,” he pointed, the torch in the cave wall illuminating a small opening to a large room.

“Welcome to the Relictorium.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get that apocalyptic ball rolling.

the type of lover i need by Rupi Kaur

i need someone

who knows struggle

as well as i do

someone  willing to hold my feet in their lap

on days it is too difficult to stand

the type of person who gives

exactly what i need

before i even know i need it

the type of lover who hears me

even when i do not speak

is the type of understanding

i demand

** Purgatory **

** Level 5 **

** Wrath - Relictorium  **

They stood outside a large bronze door, the flickering of torches lining the corridor illuminating the etched scene on the entryway. Hands stretched up from the base of the door, grasping at tree roots that lifted from the soil. The tree, covered in apples, was wrapped with a golden halo.

“Wow, that’s beautiful,” Betty whispered, running her fingers over the carvings.

“It’s centuries-old,” Jughead explained. “It represents God and man joining over the forbidden fruit long ago.”

Betty flashed her eyes to his in disbelief.

“That story is true?” she gawked, laying her back flat against the door.

“Nope,” he grinned, “but it does make for good art.”

Applying gentle pressure, Jughead pushed the towering doors open with an ancient groan revealing a vast grotto with floor to ceiling shelves of knickknacks and texts.

Betty inhaled deeply, the slightly musty smell combined with that of thousands of ancient sheets of paper inundated her nostrils and filled her with excitement.

“Jughead,” she gasped. “There must be- thousands of texts here! It could take years to find what we are looking for.”

“Thanks to your mother’s tapestry I have narrowed down the field in which to search.”

“I?” she repeated shooting him a look. “What happened to ‘we’?”

Placing an arm on the small of her back, Jughead guided her over to a small desk and lifting a hand summoned a few books from around the room.

“You,” he explained, “will study some of these angelic texts and language. You’re going to need to be in control of your abilities when we face this head-on and as they say, knowledge is power.”

Nodding grimly, Betty bit her lip and slid onto the wooden stool next to the desk, looking at the ancient texts around her. Jughead dropped a small kiss on the top of her head before disappearing deeper into the library, determination in his step.

  
  
  


** Watcher’s Woods **

** Purgatory- Level 1 **

Whirls and whoops bounced between the large boulders that formed a circle in between the trees as the wind picked up. The fall burnt orange and toast leaves danced and twittered, tickling the tree limbs as the breeze blew. One by one the shadows of gray appeared from the darkness, their grimly clad bodies in dark tattered robes mimicking those of the tree trunks around them. While the trees had light and life to them, these men had none. They were barren cavernous shells, any soul or humanity in them banished long ago.

From the back of the trees, the Premiere Shadowman approached, his drab robes dragging in the soil and leaving slug-like tracks along the ground. Turning one half a lip up in a sneer, he shot his fist up into the air and clenched his fist tightly. With one cried out crunch, all the leaves clapping on the branches silenced, and fell to the ground with a plop. Satisfied with the stark, barren branches, he continued onward and into the circle of men.

“Brothers,” he spoke, outreaching his arms towards them. “The time is upon us. The time for us to leave this place of misery and despair. The time for us to take our rightful place on earth at His side.”

Quiet murmurs of excitement and enthusiastic nods echoed between the brethren. The rebellion had been foretold so long ago that it seemed this day may never arrive.

“What of the prophecy and the Awakened one?” one of the men questioned.

The Premiere ambled forward slowly before placing an arm around Ezekiel and leading him forward into the circle, a proud smile gracing his features.

“Brothers, one of our own had made Lucifer very proud. His work has not gone unnoticed and he will be greatly rewarded when the Earth is ours.”

Ezekiel did his best to remain stoic and still, pleased by his elders words, but not allowing himself to indulge in a smile.

“The prophecy and the Awakening will be handled shortly. Ezekiel here had found the Awakened and a traitoress brother in the midst as well.”

Shock and anger uproared through the men before the Premiere raised his hand to silence them all.

“Silence!” he commanded, the previous pleased look replaced with one of disdain. “Keep order, men.”

Azriel stepped forward, bowing respectfully before beginning. “Excuse our outburst, Elder, but who amongst us would betray our order and your directives?”

The Premiere swayed forward yet again, set to put on a display and a show for the men in the woods. He would need them on his side for the upcoming war and must convince them to remain loyal.

“Brother Jones has strayed from our new path and our new ways. He clings to the past and the promise God bestowed upon us so long ago. But those promises were lies - they meant nothing. This place is one of utter darkness and woe and we are banished here to babysit worthless human souls that are nothing more than rotting energy, waiting to be expelled into the universe.”

Continuing his speech, the Premiere began to walk around the circle, maintaining a direct connection with each of his men.

“Ezekiel discovered that Brother Jones had found the Awakened soul as was helping her to remain hidden. Moreso, she is the human that has been prophesied about- the one who can stop our ascent to Earth.”

“So why not just destroy them? Why not tear them both apart- vanquish their souls?” Iladreil shouted from his place among the stones.

“It’s not that simple,” he confessed, continuing his stroll past them. “It was prophesied that the Awakened could stop us, but we did not know how. It was impossible to find the prophecy without a clue as to who they were or how they were connected to this place and the angels.”

Clouds began to gather overhead as his voice began to rise, mounting with excitement and anticipation of the carnage the takeover would bring.

“Ezekiel saw an opportunity and took it… for us. Brother Jones and the girl discovered her connection. They are right now, as we speak, finding the prophecy we need in order to determine how we can ensure she does not succeed in defeating us. Then, they will return here and deliver it straight to us.”

Nods of agreement and praise for Ezekiel’s fast thinking flowed through the men like a wave. The Premiere patted Ezekiel on the back, cupping his shoulder and finally giving in to the grin that had been threatening to spread across his chin.

“What will come of Brother Jones and the girl once they return?” Azriel questioned curiously from his spot around the circle.

A calculating look painted it’s way across the Premier’s face, followed by an insidious grin. “Eradication, Azriel. That is what awaits them.”

  
  


** Purgatory **

** Level 5 **

** Wrath - Relictorium  **

They had been reading for hours. Jughead had been scouring over every prophetic text belonging to Gusion while Betty honed her angelic powers. 

Occasional objects would fly through the room or oddly levitate as she recited an incantation. When she’d correctly memorize and pronounce a word and the actions worked beautifully, Jughead would feel a glowing warmth fill the room and smile proudly. He found it was nice to have an accomplice when taking down the devil.

She found the words in the text came naturally to her and quicker than she could have imagined, the words she needed would just appear on the tip of her tongue, magic flowing from her like water from a tap.

“Holy shit!” he laughed out, slapping a hand on the table in front of him! “Shit, Betty!”

She closed the book she was reading from and jogged her way over to the table. 

“Now who has a potty mouth?” she called with a laugh as she flew around the corner of the bookshelves so fast she had to brace herself against his body to stop her momentum.

“Did you find it? Did you find the prophecy?” she asked him breathlessly, her voice laced with hope and trepidation.

Holding up an old withered text towards the lamp, he patted the stool next to his beckoning her to sit. 

“I think I did. I only read the first few lines before I decided to call you over. I figured that since this is about you, we should hear it together.”

Betty nodded and pursed her lips, blinking once rapidly and sucking in a deep breath.

“What?” he asked her. “What is it?”

Fiddling with a tablet she had moved off the stool, she picked at the edges of the stone for something to do with her hands.

“Nothing. It’s just… once you read this it’s real, you know? Until now it was all a theory that I’d have to stop the end of the world and when you read this… I actually have to stop the end of the world.”

Jughead navigated himself to face her and placed the book down for a moment. He let his palm drift across her face to cup her cheek and took her chin between his fingertips. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead close to hers, tilting her chin to keep their eyes locked.

“This was all predetermined, Betty. Gusion saw you centuries ago and planned for you to be the savior. This whole clandestine affair was arranged by him just so that Lucifer would remain exactly where he is now- in Hell.”

Betty nodded against his forehead and he tipped her face down, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Leaning back just a bit, he grabbed the text off the table and locked eyes once more.

“Ready?” he asked, opening to the page he had bookmarked.

“As ready as one can be to hear an angelic prophecy about themselves,” she replied, attempting a small smile.

Wiping a slight bit of dust from the page, Jughead began to read.

Made from the bond of two angels,

Product of son of Gusion and daughter of Azazel.

Through centuries the blood will thicken,

Angelic powers quietly stirring.

The end will begin with her end,

Golden locks painted crimson with her own ichor.

This end marks a beginning, the Awakening of her lineage,

Her path illuminated with angelic love.

The Prince will be chained to his place once more,

Her purity and light resealing the gate.

The power and light will only come through,

After angelic love falls into the black.

His sacrifice will ignite the spark,

Her virtue will absorb the static.

When he finished reading he sat back and gazed at the pages. Being more familiar with angelic tongue and prophecy, he processed the words more rapidly than she was able to. Snatching the book from his hands, Betty began to read to herself once more, trying to make heads and tails of the wording.

“Who is Azazel?” she asked, finger tracing the name in the text.

“Azazel was another fallen angel,” he explained. “No one understood how Gusion or Azazel could have been found as supporters of Lucifer, but it seems as if they allowed it in order for this very moment to take place. Azazel means ‘God strengthens’. He was a solid presence in Heaven.”

She remained quiet for a while, fingers wrinkling the edge of the delicate paper, eyes once again rereading the ancient words.

“It says that my path will be illuminated by angelic love,” she whispered into the cavernous room, barely loud enough to be heard.

Jughead nodded. “I sense a question hidden in your statement, but I think you already know the answer.”

“You love me,” she said matter of factly. “You love me, but you shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t? Are you not worthy of love?” Jughead asked her, scooting his stool forward once again and enveloping her wrist with his fingers.

“Jughead, don’t play coy with me. It says that I will only succeed with his sacrifice and that he will fall into black,” Betty gulped, tossing the text onto the table and placing her head in her hands.

“Betty-” he began reaching forward for her.

She forcefully pushed back, jerking away from him. She had tried to remain stoic and kept her eyes fixed away from him. He would not allow that. Gripping her stool he pulled her forward violently and gripped her face between his hands forcing her face to look at his own. Betty exhaled and sagged her shoulders, one tear escaping through the corner of her eyelid, starting the race, before dozens of others chased down the same path.

“Jughead, for me to succeed you have to die. You sacrifice yourself.” Betty choked out between tears.

Jughead bit his lip and looked up towards the arched ceilings. It seemed almost cruel that they would meet and be fated to this end. He had remained a loyal servant to God and his end would come in service as well. In a way, it was beautiful. He just wished for more time.

“Betty, we were brought together for a reason. While our time may have been...brief, that doesn’t make it less real. Less worthwhile.”

She sniffled and leaned into his touch, closing her eyes focussing on the softness in his voice.

“I would take one hour with you over never knowing you at all. In all my many, many years, my heart never wanted to beat the way it does when I look at you. If my sacrifice can save you and humanity, there’s no question that I’ll allow it to happen.”

Pressing her lips to his, Betty closed the gap between them slowly. While the past moments had been desperate and tense, the kiss was not. She hoped that her lips could convey all the things she wanted to say but wouldn’t be able to. She poured hundreds of I Love Yous and promises into the kiss, clinging to him as if he would disappear at that moment.

Jughead could feel waves of energy and emotion flowing over him and hoped she could feel the same. He kissed her with fervor and want, his lips and tongue tracing promises onto her skin. He deepened the kiss and couldn’t help but deepen the intensity as well. If he was to be exterminated, he wanted his lips to leave imprints, phantom kisses she would always feel. 

Betty pulled back to examine his face. She could see the desire and sentiment she felt mirrored in his own eyes. Lacing their fingers, she rose from her stool, beckoning him to stand as well. He rose and tilted his head with a questioning glance. Betty offered a small smile in return that said, “just go with it.”

Tugging on his hands while walking backward, she pulled him back to where she had been studying earlier. A pile of deeply colored fabrics and pillows lay near the corner, the torchlights overhead offering flickers of illumination. Smiling shyly, Betty pulled him back towards the shadows.

He could see her nervousness in her mannerisms as they came to a halt. He was pretty sure he knew why. He was also pretty sure his hands were shaking. Still gazing back at him, Betty lifted her arms and pulled her sweatshirt from over her head, revealing just a pink t-shirt underneath. She placed her hands at the hem of her t-shirt, but her confidence began to falter. 

She didn’t have to worry. His hands covered hers and the thin fabric of the shirt and, never looking past her face, he helped her lift the garment up and over her head. Once the garment hit the floor, her hands found the hem of his shirt, and with some courage, and the gray material fell on top of the pink on the floor.

He had wanted to remain chivalrous, but the temptation to gaze upon her was becoming too strong. Luckily for him, Betty broke eye contact first, her eyes hungrily trailing down his chest, fingers tracing the slight definition of his pectoral muscles.

The contact was too much and he crushed his lips against hers again, slowly lowering them to the ground and onto one of the plush pillows there. She was even more beautiful bared before him in the flickering glow of the torchlight above.

He let his gaze trace down her body and his lips followed suit. He kissed his way across every purple line that marked her arm, washing away any pain, before his lips trailed down her chest and to her stomach. He briefly looked up at her before pressing kisses to the ragged scar that stood out against the pale skin of her side; the mark that had effectively ended her life but brought her to him.

“Betty,” he whispered into the darkness, peppering kisses back up her abdomen, the top of her chest and her throat. “Every brush of wind against your skin,” he whispered, brushing his nose against her neck. “Every red or golden leaf that falls and skims against you,” he hissed against the shell of her ear, his warm tongue tracing the curve. “Everytime you feel warm or content and don’t know why,” he said softly, his eyes trailing up to hers once more as he lay his body over hers. “Just know that it’s me. It will always be me because I will always be there with you.”

Swallowing her tears, she sealed his words with a kiss. “I love you,” she murmured in hushed tones against his neck.

“And I love you,” he breathed back.

Neither spoke again. As the rest of their clothes joined a growing pile on the floor, they found no need for words. Hands and lips conveyed the messages they longed to spend forever whispering and their bodies connected, anchoring them to each other. In that moment there was no Devil and there was no death; only life and love.

** Riverdale **

** Purgatory Level 1 **

The cloaked figures manifested in mass; their numbers increased by one since the gathering earlier. Ezekiel held the squirming blonde woman tight, the band around her mouth prohibiting her words from escaping.

“You might as well relax, Alice,” Ezekiel spoke. “You can’t escape us and Betty can’t win. Why make this all more unpleasant than it already will be.”

“I don’t understand why we don’t just kill her now,” Azriela sighed. “She’s wearing on my nerves.”

“Patience,” the Premiere warned. “She could prove useful. Or maybe it will just be fun for Betty to watch her demise.”

Alice began to squirm and struggle again at his mention of Betty.

The Premiere’s lips turned up in a sinister smile.

“They say a mother’s love knows no bounds,” he crooned cockily at her. “But here, in Purgatory, I make the rules.”

He gestured towards the open space before them. 

“They will return from here,” he explained to the brethren. “And then we shall see what this prophecy entails.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @jandjsalmon for her wonderful editing!  
Follow me on Tumblr @likemereckless  
Comments are always appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

Silence by Thomas Hood

There is a silence where hath been no sound, 

There is a silence where no sound may be, 

In the cold grave—under the deep deep sea, 

Or in the wide desert where no life is found, 

Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound; 

No voice is hush’d—no life treads silently, 

But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free, 

That never spoke, over the idle ground: 

But in green ruins, in the desolate walls 

Of antique palaces, where Man hath been, 

Though the dun fox, or wild hyena, calls, 

And owls, that flit continually between, 

Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan, 

There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone.

** Purgatory **

** Level 5 **

** Wrath - Relictorium  **

They lay side by side, wrapped up in a blanket stalling the inevitable. Betty’s cheek was pressed against his chest as his fingers grazed back and forth against her arms, raising little goosebumps in their wake.

Pressing a kiss to the crown of her head he shifted her over a bit so he could see her face as he spoke.

“We should go,” he lamented softly. “Who knows what’s going on up there already… how many souls have been affected.”

Betty rolled her face into his neck and inhaled deeply.

“Five more minutes,” she pled, nipping at the flesh there gently.

“That’s what you said an hour ago,” he laughed, rolling them over to pin her to the floor. “But we seem to keep getting distracted.”

Biting her lip to suppress a giggle, Betty leaned up to kiss him but her lips never made contact. For a moment he mistook her shaking for laughter, but quickly realized she was having another seizure, another vision.

“Betty!” Jughead cried, carefully cradling her head while she rode out the spasms.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she saw The Premiere, standing and waiting with the brethren outside of their exit. In her previous episodes, Betty had held back and tensed. Now she welcomed them like old friends. She had clarity and understanding now, thanks to Gusion’s text. Taking it all in, Betty watched the scene unfold, her body buckling and bending while Jughead held her close.

As the shaking subsided, Betty slowly came back into consciousness. She found herself being pulled forward and clutched against his chest, damp hair being swept back from her forehead.

“You came back,” he purred, still holding her as if she were smoke, visible now but disappearing at a moment’s notice.

“I never left,” she laughed, pushing up a bit and scooting back from him, readjusting her ponytail that had been shaken loose earlier and then again during her trembling.

“What did you see? Has it begun?” he asked hesitantly, as if just saying the words may cause an avalanche to begin.

“They are waiting for us… right outside where we entered. Ezekiel. He played us, Jughead,” Betty explained, her voice low as if it could soften the betrayal.

Shaking his head and casting his eyes up towards the ceiling, he let out a small laugh that was devoid of any humor at all. Dragging his top teeth over his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, he began to nod slightly and purse his lips.

“Jughead-“ Betty offered, but her words were lost.

Before her eyes, the kind gentleman she had come to love, sprung from his seat and his fists made contact with the rough stone wall behind him.

“Fu- I can’t- damn it!” he yelled, repeatedly pounding the graying stone into pulp.

Betty stood and shimmied up behind him, placing a palm on his shoulder.

“Jug-“ she sighed once again.

His fists stopped connecting with the metamorphic rock and his shoulders sagged as he sank back into her touch.

Betty slid both palms over his shoulders and across his chest, nestling her chest against his back and her nose into his neck.

After a few moments of deep breathing, he slackened his fists and turned to face her.

“You saw more than just Ezekiel, didn’t you?” he pressed.

“Jughead, I…” she stammered and stepped back from his embrace.

“What was it, Betty?” he asked, stepping forward again and back into her personal space.

Betty shook her head and willed her tears to remain at bay.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t. If I tell you it could change things…”

He opened his mouth for a moment as if he were going to argue before closing his lips tight once again.

“It’s time then?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes,” was all she could manage to choke out quietly. Though she spoke hushed and low, her response felt heavy and echoed as loud as a canon in the vast darkness.

** Riverdale **

** Purgatory Level 1 **

Thick overhead clouds muddled the synthetic sunshine, casting a gray hue over the ground. Cool wisps of wind wrapped their way around the woods, weaving paths through the barren tree trunks that stood in stark contrast to the drab gray of the sky. The toast, rust, and crimson-colored leaves had since vanished, abandoning their cheery perches on the limbs of the trees and perhaps sensing the mood of what was to come.

The cloaked figures stood, waiting in silence, Alice still held fiercely in Ezekiel’s grip. Sensing a disturbance in the rift, The Premiere spoke.

“They have come.”

As his words dripped from his lips, a shimmering tear appeared in the atmosphere before them. The chasm spread open and through the deep darkness inside, two beacons of light emerged, waiting to be snuffed out.

** In the Rift **

They had trudged their way back up the path without incident. Jughead had sighed a silent breath of relief for that, but the simplicity of it all felt too staged. He knew they had been allowed to get this far without issue, but he couldn’t understand why. He was pretty confident Betty knew, but telling him could change the course of future events and she didn’t want to risk that.

A thin sliver of light shone up ahead where the faint tear in the atmosphere still materialized from their entry earlier. He stopped suddenly in his tracks, causing Betty to stumble and grab onto his wrist for support.

“What?” she spat out panicked, leaning flush against him, her hands splayed against his chest. “What is it?”

He shook his head and upturned the corner of his lip, his arms easily wrapping around her small frame and her head coming to rest under his chin as he pulled her close.

“That’s the opening up ahead,” he explained, words laced with heartache. “I just- before we step out there…”

He faltered in his speech, but Betty could read between the lines. Pulling back she stood up on tiptoe and sealed her lips over his, effectively ending the need for words. Though the situation was one of tension and desperation, the kiss was soft and slow. Lips brushed against each other and spoke silent volumes.

He pulled back first, afraid that if he didn’t end it now he would never be able to. He was tempted to grab her arm and disappear into a far off place, away from it all.

He pressed his forehead against hers and sighed. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

Betty traced her thumb across his cheek and offered one last peck followed by a solemn, “I love you, too,” before turning and heading towards the rift. 

“Gusion, you better be right,”  she thought to herself.

  
  


** Riverdale **

** Purgatory Level 1 **

After so long in the dimly lit depths of Purgatory, the sunlight assaulted their eyes. Readjusting to the brightness, thirteen figures came into view; 12 robed and one very familiar blonde.

“Elizabeth. Forsythe.” The Premiere croaked. “Welcome back to Level 1. We’ve been waiting.”

Betty scrunched up her face and turned towards Jughead. 

“Forsythe?” she mocked, surprised to hear his given name.

“Did you really think Jughead was my angelic name, Betts?” he teased back.

“Enough nonsense,” Azrael barked. “I would think you two would be less jovial being outnumbered so fantastically.”

“Mom?” Betty’s voice trembled with fright as she finally realized the restrained woman was her mother. “Mom, are you alright?”

The Premiere stepped forward, signaling Ezekiel to hold Alice tightly.

“She is fine for now, Elizabeth.” he threatened. “However, if you don’t divulge the prophecy you’ll see just how powerful I can be.”

Stuffing a hand in her pocket, Betty pulled out a tattered piece of parchment, seemingly torn from a text and dangled it in the air before her.

“Betty, did you…” Jughead began, sending her a questioning glance. 

Her eyes bore into him with a look that said to trust her, so he did.

The Premiere’s eyes widened and he looked almost as if he were going to begin to salivate at the sight.

“Good girl, Elizabeth. Now hand that over and no one needs to get hurt. You and your mother can join us. You can help us build a new world where we reign with power.”

As he spoke, the conviction in his voice mounted and the brethren around him grew excited. Betty had foreseen this all. This was how it began and she knew what she had to do.

Extending her arm forward, she held out the prophecy towards him. Desire and want flashed across his face as he strode forward hastily. The birds and insects fell silent as his steps grew closer. 

He stood a mere twenty feet away when Betty yelled, “Incendium.”

The parchment burst into flame in her fingertips in a bright flash. The fire flickered so rapidly and quickly that Betty didn’t even have time to let go. The flames engulfed the prophecy and in moments all that remained was ash cascading to the ground.

“No!” The Premiere cursed, lurching forward and falling to his knees at then fallen specks. “Stupid girl! Do you know what you’ve done!?”

Betty had absolutely no idea what she was doing, but she wouldn’t let on. Holding out her fist she shook the remaining ash to the ground.

“Now I’m the only one with knowledge of the prophecy. I won’t let you win,” she spat down at him.

Quiet nervous chatter broke out among the brethren. How could this mortal conjure angelic tongue and magic? Was it trickery? The Premier did not seem as concerned as the others. He assumed this was Forsythe’s doing and part of their plan. There was no way this common mortal could speak in angelic tongue.

The move was sudden and the yell deafening. From the ground below The Premiere leaped up from the forest floor and lunged at Betty, hand poised forward to grab at her throat.

“ABYSSUS!” he raged, as Betty’s nostrils flared and pupils dilated in fear.

“NO!” Jughead howled, pushing roughly off the ground and lunging his body to the side, The Premier’s hand making contact with him rather than Betty.

“JUGHEAD!” she wailed, grasping at the vacant space in front of her for his body that now lay limp and immobile on the ground.

“J- Jug?” she wept, tapping on his chest. “Jughead.” she cried again, leaving in closer to him to quietly whisper, “Come back to me.”

Before her eyes, his material form began to disappear. At first, there was a trace of him and then an outline. Then, he was gone. A shadow of an imprint was all that was left in the soft forest soil. Some of the brethren looked shocked. Betty did her best to mimic their expressions. She knew this would come to pass. She had foreseen it this before.

“Foolish girl!” The Premiere interrupted. “He can’t come back to you. Forsythe Jones has been eradicated. His soul will spend an eternity floating in silent, cold darkness and nothing more and soon you shall follow suit.”

Betty stood stoic and straight, staring him down with a long hard glare to his eyes.

“Go ahead,” she dared him. “I have nothing left to lose.”

From the corner came a frantic voice. “Wait!” Ezekiel cried. “Forgive me, Andromalius, sir, but what of ending her is what causes us to fail.”

The Premiere considered his words carefully, pondering that possibility. He had waited too long and worked too hard to lose.

“What do you suggest then, Ezekiel?” he countered.

Unleashing his grip on Alice for a moment, he walked forward, pushing her in front of him and closer to Betty and his brothers.

“I propose, sir, that we take them both with us, down into Hell and we  make her tell us what it is she has uncovered.”

** Nowhere **

** Nothing **

** Darkness **

He was suspended. He was laying. He was flying. He was buoyant. He was sunken. He was nothing.

The air was cold. Was it even air? Or was it water? There was nothing to see and nothing to hear. No air meant no sound waves. There were no stars and no pinpricks of light and no other souls within sight.

So this was eradication, he thought to himself. Condemned to an eternity of static. He didn’t regret his choice. It was still better that this was to be  his  fate and not Betty’s. He wanted to touch his hand to his lips and trace the edges, grasping for that last fleeting contact of her lips upon his, but found he could not move his limbs either. Did he even have limbs any longer or was he simply consciousness? He couldn’t make anything out in the inky blackness of his current state.

In that moment he pictured her face, hoping to bring light and warmth to the darkness, but none came. He needed Betty to be successful in her conquest above. This was not a fate he wished upon her. She deserved better. Floating along he realized he had a very long time to contemplate what may or may not arise. He chose instead to picture her smile, laughing under the umbrella as cheese fell from the sky.

** Hell **

Betty was in Hell. Literally. Loads of times she had uttered the words, “I’m in Hell.” or “This is total Hell.” But those were all from the comfort of her floral bedspread and pink cotton sheets. This time she was physically in Hell.

Her arms were bound behind her back and she was huddled in a corner on the rough stone floor. Her mother lay next to her, breathing but unconscious from when they tossed her inside the locked cavern, her head connecting harshly with the hard rock of the wall.

“Mom,” she whispered into the darkness. “Mom, you need to wake up.”

She nudged at Alice with her foot, gently coaxing her back. With a groan, Alice stirred from where she lay on the floor, rolling over and taking in her surroundings.

“Betty?” she moaned into the darkness, panic coupling her words. “Betty is that you?”

Using her feet to drag herself forward, Betty scooted towards her mother. 

“Yeah, Mom,” she reassured her. “It’s me. I need you to help me, alright? I need you to stay calm and work with me now.”

Alice was thankful for the yoga she did when she was alive. Using her core, she sat herself up, wincing at the pain pulsating behind her eyes.

“Elizabeth?” she asked looking around. “I’m not dreaming this. We are actually in Hell, right?”

Sticking out her lower lip and nodding, Betty shimmied so that her hands were close to her mother’s hands.

“Yeah, definitely not a dream. We are actually in Hell.”

Alice swirled some spit around her mouth to remove some of the dryness and cranked up her nose at the offending smell of sulfur she had just recognized.

“Alright then,” she nodded, understanding Betty’s wishes and beginning to fiddle with the ropes on her wrists. “We are dead and kidnapped by… angels? demons? Whatever they are. And we are being held prisoner in Hell.”

“That pretty much sums up the day,” Betty confirmed, pulling her hands free as her mother held space between the ropes.

“To be honest, kid, we’ve had worse days,” Alice quipped, trying to lighten the mood as Betty removed the restraints from her feet.

Now free, Betty quickly untangled the bindings on her mother before scrambling to her feet.

“We don’t have much time, Mom,” she breathed, searching the room for what she needed.

“What do you need me to do?” her mother asked, standing slowly and pushing back the blinding pain in her head. “If I’m dead why do things hurt so much?”

“Found it!” Betty yelled, picking up the small button from the rocky floor before walking over to her mother.

“Percuro,” she muttered, healing Alice’s wounds and ending the pounding ache in her skull.

“How did you…?” Alice began before reconsidering. “You know what? Never mind. What do you need me to do?”

Betty grabbed the ropes that had been used to retrain them from the floor and began to fasten them together. She tied once large end around her waist and using angelic language that she’d absorbed from a text, created a constricting knot that held it in place.

“I have to go get Jughead, Mom,” she sputtered, working as quickly as she could.

“But, Betty, he’s gone…” Alice said, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder.

“Mom, we learned we are dead, in Hell, and Lucifer is taking over Earth. Do you really think there’s no way to bring him back?” 

Her rhetorical question hung in the air as she took a deep breath and handed the end of the rope to Alice.

“We need Jughead to defeat Lucifer. It’s all part of the- it’s been foreseen. The only thing that can defeat hate and evil is love. It’s us fighting together as a team or we lose.”

Alice nodded and wrapped the rope tightly around her fist. “What do I do?”

Betty gulped in a deep breath and gazed over at her mother. “Just don’t let go.”

Moving toward the middle of the room, Betty closed her eyes and began to meditate. She first blanked out the sounds in the room; the drips of water and distant screams that echoed off the wall. She closed off the scent of sulfur that had been clogging her nostrils like rotten eggs. She shed the intense heat that seemed to come from everywhere, burning away at her skin and leaving her covered in a thin layer of sweat. 

Soon, she was alone; alone in the darkness and silence. When she had embraced Jughead’s body earlier, she had plucked a button from his clothes. The small object would help tether him to her so she could find him in the unknown abyss she was trying to infiltrate.

“Gnavigem Vectorium,” she whispered and the heat all around her was replaced by icy coolness. Blinking her eyes open she searched around the black space. While her limbs could not move, her consciousness could. She used what she had seen in her visions to navigate the opaque depths. 

She could feel his soul calling to her, connecting her to him in this non-existence they floated in. 

“Lumen,” she thought, casting a bright light from within herself and standing out like a single star in the night sky.

“Jughead,”  she thought to herself. “ Jughead, come to me. I’ve come for you.”

At first, she felt no response, no tug or pull, but that was quickly replaced by an instant awareness.

“ Betty? Betty where are you? I’m here,” she felt his consciousness around her.

“Betty,”  she heard again, but this voice was not Jughead’s. It came out as more of a hiss and a slither. She hadn’t taken into account other souls that may be looking for her bright existence in the darkness, too.

“ Betty,”  the voice hissed again.  “Come for me, Betty. My pretty, pretty one.”

The voice left pinpricks of fear and uneasiness in her abdomen. It was not a friendly tone, of that she was certain. She needed to find Jughead quickly. Focusing on the feel of his skin, the warmth of his lips, and the fragment of the button still clutched in her hand, Betty whispered, “Amica mea,” my love, to herself. Like a mantra she replayed the feelings and the touches and clutched at the button as her soul began to move through the darkness and away from the venomous soul, making her way towards his.

Like an electric shock, her soul collided with another. Immediately she could sense it was him. Mixed and tether together, she felt warmth in the cold and relief flooded through her.

“Betty,” she could hear his consciousness sigh.

Looking forward to their reunion, but more so to leaving this prison, Betty thought, “ Exitus ,” and was rapidly yanked forward. The rope she had fastened began to tug them both, connected and joined, out of one hell and back to another.

With a thump and a boom, they landed on the cavern floor, Alice standing with her mouth agape, hands bleeding from how tightly she had held on.

“Betty!” she called. “Oh, thank God! You found him!”

Regaining her breath, Betty looked up from the floor to find Jughead’s face inches from hers, his eyes deep and soft despite their surroundings.

“You came for me,” he said, cupping her cheek in his hand. His touch had never been more of a comfort than now.

“You died for me,” she murmured back, leaning in to press her lips to his chastely.

They stayed connected for a moment, reacclimating to this plane of existence before the sound of Alice clearing her throat interrupted them.

“Sorry to break up the reunion,” she announced, “but are we going to take down Lucifer or what?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! It will be posted tomorrow. Thanks to those of you who like this story 
> 
> Many thanks to @jandjsalmon for her beta skills!  
Follow me on Tumblr for fic recs and updates!  
@likemereckless


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with this story! Many thanks again to the most wonderful beta reader, @jandjsalmon. Follow me on Tumblr for more stories: @likemereckless.

Excerpt from Carrying the Fire by Michael Collins

“If I could use only one word to describe the earth as seen from the moon

I would ignore both its size and its color

and search for a more elemental quality, that of

fragility.

The earth appears

fragile

above all else.

I don't know why but it does.

As we walk its surface, it seems solid and substantial enough,

almost infinite 

as it extends flatly in all directions.

But from space

there is no hint of raggedness to it;

smooth as a billiard ball,

it seems delicately poised 

in its circular journey around the sun,

and above all

it seems

fragile.”

**Hell**

The cave walls began to tremble and twitch around them, the vibrations itching their feet and starting tiny cracks in the stone below. The stench of rot and decay began to thicken in the dense heat, clogging their nostrils and stealing their breath.

Through the trembling, they heard the distant sound of pudding hooves and snarling, ghastly neighs.

“What’s happening?” Alice whispered, as if her low tone may prevent whatever it was making those sounds from finding them hidden there.

Jughead straightened his body, leaving Betty’s embrace and angled his body towards the door.

_ “And so the four horsemen came upon the Earth, their midnight black steeds snarling and thirsting, bucking and writhing against the blackening soil. Conquest. War. Famine. Death. They surveyed the vast plains, theirs for the taking. They rode out in order, and all the green of the Earth was no more. Ash, dry and blistering, left in their wake. _

_ The skies darkened with the embers of burning flesh and putrid stink lingered in their wake. There was no more sun. There was no more tint. Buildings stood like barren bones, skeletons, no longer shelters in the bleak, dying land.  _

_ Bodies shriveled and starved, the risen dead squeezed and suffocated, and death claimed them all. Every last one. _

_ Ne’er a chirp in the sky or a blade from the ground; only cinders and silence to remain.” _

Alice eyed Jughead warily and shuffled her way over to Betty, latching onto her arm.

“Yeah, that? Not making me feel any better,” she mumbled. “Remind me why you had to bring him back?”

Jughead turned back to them abruptly.

“It's foretelling of the rise of the four horsemen, bringers of death, and the apocalypse. It’s their horses we hear in the distance.”

Betty swallowed down the large lump that seemed stuck in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was her anxiety mounting or the smoke and embers that clogged her throat. She curled her hands into fists and clenched them tightly, the old familiar sting of cracking skin a comfort in this vast wasteland.

“Betty,” Jughead said, cupping her elbow, “I hate to ask, and I know you may not want to try, but can you try to control your visions? Can you try and see what we need to do next?”

Licking her lips and offering a small nod, Betty shook herself free from his touch.

“If I need to venture away from here I can’t have you touching me or I’ll never be able to concentrate,” she blushed, a shy smile on her lips.

“Oh really?” Jughead said smugly, voice laced with pride and flirtation. “Does my touch have an effect on you?”

Alice tossed her hands up in the air and sighed, grabbing Jughead by the arm and pulling him away from the center of the room, Betty hiding a smile behind her hand.

“I’m dead and I STILL have to deal with teenage hormones,” Alice griped.

Jughead tossed her a scoffing look. “I’m 600 years old,” he shot back.

Alice rolled her eyes and pushed him even further from Betty. 

“Fantastic. My future son in law is older than I am,” she snarled.

Poorly concealing a snicker, Betty pasted on a face of concentration and scolded them both.

“Seriously, guys. I need to concentrate. There’s an apocalypse to prevent… remember?”

Closing her eyes and taking a few calming breaths, Betty began to focus her mind on Earth. She imagined herself flying up high over the rot and flames down in hell, up through the cavernous layers of rock in Purgatory, and finally landing on solid ground in a large, lush patch of grass.

As her concentration became more focused, so did her visions. She was alone in the large open field. The wind whipping through the grass pushed loose strands of her hair across her face. Though no one else was visible, she could feel a presence nearby. 

Turning, she saw the outline of four figures in the distance, each mounted atop a raven-colored horse. The ground under them began to brown and spread like an infected wound, spiraling outward, it’s dying veins spreading the venom throughout the ground.

Beneath her feet, pebbles began to tremble. A great split began to tear a divide in the earth, slowly pulling apart into a large chasm. The heat and stench of hell emanated from the crevice like mountains of rotting garbage, putrifying in the summer heat. 

Mangled and monstrous, crumbling corpses began to emerge from the gap, spreading out across the landscape. The hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle and she sensed another set of eyes burning pinpricks into her skin. Tearing her sights from before her, she looked up from the hole once again towards the horseman only to find a fifth figure had appeared, The Premiere. 

Betty began to picture herself as invisible, to guard herself from being seen in the vision as she watched the events unfold before her. 

After a few moments, she gasped in a large breath, body shuddering, as her consciousness returned to her body and the pit in which she remained.

Rushing to her side, Jughead offered her support for her weak limbs.

“What did you see?” he pressed gently, not wanting to rush her, but anxious to get started.

“I saw them. The Horsemen. They were with Andromalius. I know how to stop them, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Betty, I’ve already died once today, so if that’s what you’re worried about, I’m good on that front,” he quipped to lighten the mood.

Shaking her head and placing a hand on her hip, Betty pursed her lips at his candid use of humor.

“No, Jughead,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You don’t have to die… again, if you follow my directions. But we do need to split up.”

Alice stepped in from where she stood in the corner, breaking her silence at Betty’s admission. 

“There is no way we are separating, Betty. The Devil, the  _ actual  _ Devil, is waiting to rise up out of Hell and will be looking for  _ you _ .”

“Exactly!” she bit back. “They will be looking for me once they realize we are gone which will cloud their judgment and awareness. Jughead, why is it that Hell can rise now as opposed to before?”

Crossing his arms across his chest, Jughead leaned back and spread his legs, considering her words and trying to see where she was going with this train of thought.

“Well, Andromalius has been condemning more souls and finally tipped the scales, with more souls in Lucifer’s realm. More souls equals more power.”

“Exactly!” Betty exclaimed, bobbing up and down a bit and pressing her hands together. “They are already on Earth, and people are already dying- we can’t reverse what has already started. But, where are those souls going?”

Jughead dropped his arms and a smirk drew itself across his lips. He finally understood.

“Betty Cooper, you are a wonder,” he boasted. “Purgatory. They are headed to Purgatory.”

“I’m sorry,” Alice interrupted, cocking her head to the side in confusion. “But what does Purgatory have to do with the end of the world?”

“The rift can only stay open while Hell holds the power,” Jughead explained. “They are sending more souls to Purgatory as they cause mayhem on Earth, but they aren’t taking into account that  _ most  _ people are inherently good.”

Alice nodded, finally picking up on Betty’s plan. “So if we get to Purgatory and say, wake these people up and get them to repent…”

Jughead nodded, lacing his fingers through Betty’s. “If we get them to repent, we send more souls to Heaven and the scales tip back, and the rift begins to close.”

“What about the demons already on Earth?” Alice asked. “Won’t they continue to kill and spread darkness?”

“That’s where I come in,” Betty interrupted. “Besides keeping them distracted I’ll also act as a decoy. Once The Premiere knows I’m there, he’ll send the Horseman and demons to swarm me. If we can time things correctly and I’m near the rift…”

“Then they’ll all be sucked back down,” Jughead finished.

“And what about Betty?” Alice piped up. “Won’t she be sucked back down as well?”

Betty looked at the floor beneath her feet, dragging her toe through the dust she found there.

“It’s possible,” she admitted. “I honestly don't know how this ends. I couldn’t see that far. It’s almost as if it’s not set in stone yet. But the way I see it? We have to try this plan. We don’t really have another choice.”

Betty looked over to Jughead who was quite still and quiet. His hand was placed over his jaw in thought, fingers pressed into his lips. His weight was set back on his heels as he rocked back and forth in thought.

“I don’t like it…” he finally said, pursing his lips, antsy and agitated.

“Well, at least we can agree on that,” Alice snarled back.

“But it’s the only plan we’ve got,” he finished. “Betty, we’ll help get you out of here and to the surface first. Then Alice and I will head back to Riverdale to start waking the recently deceased. I’m guessing they will be pissed and quite ready to repent.”

They all stood silent for a moment before Alice stepped forward, embracing Betty hard. If she needed to breathe, she would have suffocated.

“You be careful up there, Betty,” she warned her.

Betty squeezed her back equally as hard. She almost found it funny that they were closer in death than in life. She wanted that to continue. She wasn’t ready for that to fade into black.

“You too, Mom,” she whispered into her embrace.

Pulling back, Alice looked between Betty and Jughead. “I’ll give you two a minute,” she said, squeezing Betty’s hand one more time before heading to the other side of the cell to provide them with some privacy.

Betty shimmied over towards him, standing to face him and intertwining their fingers, her thumb delicately grazing across his knuckles in a soft, calming gesture.

“You going to be alright spending time with my Mom?” Betty teased, trying to bring some levity to the thick tension between them.

Jughead shrugged and dragged his hands up her arms to her shoulders, pulling her closer into his stance.

“I mean, she can’t kill me since we’re technically not alive, so that’s something,” he said, his eyes dropping down to her lips and then back up to her eyes.

“Jughead…” Betty whispered. She wanted to say so much, but what words could she use? How do you explain such intense feelings? Words seemed too… simple; too common. 

He seemed to understand. To him, words were superfluous to action and he slanted his mouth over hers, his hand on her right shoulder sliding up her neck and into her hair, gripping her closer.

He had intended for the kiss to be chaste and full of worship and love. It was still all those things, but intense. Their teeth clashed and their tongues chased, all the chaos and mayhem spiraling around them found an outlet in their embrace.

Reluctantly, Betty pulled back, chest heaving and cheeks flushed, and lay her head on his chest.

“When this is over,” Jughead panted, “I’m going to memorize every inch of you.”

His tongue began to trace the curve of her ear before pulling the lobe between his lips, leaving heat pooling on her skin.

“Every curve. Every dip. Every freckle. I’m going to find them all,” he continued. “I’m going to learn what makes you sigh and what makes you smile. I’m going to discover every spot that makes you scream.”

He could feel the blush on her skin in the darkness, the blood pooling in her cheeks as he spoke. He was surprised by his brazen tongue as well.

“Are you trying to make it harder for me to go?” she questioned him, pecking his lips once more.

He shook his head and tucked a loose strand of hair from her ponytail back behind her ear.

“No, Betty. I’m trying to give you reasons to come back to me. To succeed.”

Betty once again pressed her lips to his, softly this time. She let the contact linger, lips connected but without any movement or advancement, just relishing in the feel of him.

“I love you,” she whispered as she finally pulled back. “That’s all the reason I need.”

Under their feet the ground shook again, a huge split opening in the cave wall behind them.

“They’ll come for us soon. We need to go,” Jughead explained, taking the nods from Betty and Alice and a sign they would follow him.

Pausing at the large metal door embedded into the rock, Jughead concentrated on his next set of steps and before their eyes, the door was gone, a large opening lay ready for them in its place.

The exterior of their prison was a scene out of a horror film. They found themselves in the dark of deepest night, the only illumination coming from molten pits of rock and bubbled a spewed. A few souls, left behind as the rest ascended to Earth, remained chained and bound at the feet of the pits, their lungs gasping for breath from the thick, clouding smoke and ash, and their screams piercing the darkness each time a lick of rock made a brush against their skin.

Betty’s first instinct was to run over and free them, but Jughead shook his head at her and mouthed, “trap.”

Though heartbroken and sickened, Betty sucked down a deep breath and held back a sob, nodding back at him in understanding. They needed to reach Earth or this would be the fate of all, not just a few souls.

As they reached the cover of an unimaginable giant, spiral stone staircase reaching up higher than the eye could see, screeches and screams came from the cavern they just left. Giant demonic creatures swooped and soared overhead, rushing down at the chained victims below, teeth-gnashing at their skin and pushing them further into the fiery blazes before them.

“We need to climb,” Jughead whispered to them in the dark. “I’m going to color our clothing and your hair black so we blend in better with the rock. If you can, rub your arms and hands where bare with soot. They more we blend in the safer we will be.”

Kneeling to the ground they began to paint themselves. Occasionally a steam vent would open and burp out scorching steam around them. Luckily, the underside of the stairs seemed to provide them cover. Once they were less visible, Jughead nodded towards the steep, swirling steps.

The rock was slippery under their feet, wet with what Betty hoped was drips of steam, but near the occasional fire pit she could see was a liquid that had more of a red tint rather than clear. She tried not to think about it and instead focused on her footfalls on the stone.

They had been climbing for what seemed like hours, stopping every so often to lay flat on the stone when an unknown demonic being had soared by or the ground beneath them shook the staircase. They had quiet travel for the past few moments and it left Betty uneasy.

As if on cue, the ground shook again violently, the staircase groaning and trembling beneath them. The stairs below them began to crumble and crack, the pieces plummeting hundreds of stories below into the fiery pits. Betty and Jughead who were in the front glanced back to see Alice hanging over the chasm, her hands gripping and slipping from the exposed step as she tried to pull herself back up.

Alice, to her credit, managed not to scream and draw attention to their whereabouts. Quickly taking action, Betty and Jughead lay in their stomach, extending their arms to wrap their hands around Alice’s wrists, pulling her up from where she hung and back onto the fragile rock.

Once on solid ground again, Alice silently embraced Betty and shuddered, breathing as deeply as she could in the steamy smoke-filled room.

“We need to keep moving,” Jughead emphasized, turning and heading back up the rock, Alice and Betty following suit.

After a long and exhausting ascent, they could see a pinprick of light up ahead. The promise of fresh air and hope encouraged them to climb faster. Soon, they were clawing at soil and digging their way up into the sunlight from below.

Dirt and roots clung to their ashen covered bodies. As they climbed out from the ground completely, they collapsed against the soil momentarily, Jughead carefully examined their surroundings.

“Where are we?” Betty huffed, rolling onto her back to look up at the sky. “Is this Earth or Purgatory?”

“Earth,” Jughead explained, climbing to his feet and shaking soil and ash from his hair before offering a hand to pull Betty and Alice up as well.

Betty glanced around confusion on her face as she took in the scenery around them. She was in a field of grass, but she saw large buildings in the distance, cranes moving large shipping containers, and pluming smokestacks standing tall over petrochemical refinement plants.

“What? What is it?” Jughead asked her, seeing the look on her face.

“It’s just… I always thought Lucifer was going to rise from the Middle East from so many prophecies, not… where are we?” 

Looking around, Jughead understood her confusion. The old texts were not exactly clear.

“We are in the East, sort of. We are in New Jersey,” he explained.

“The apocalypse begins in Jersey?” Betty blurted in surprise before changing her expression and nodding in understanding, her lips pursing out in a duck-like manner. “I could see it…”

They looked off into the distance and could already see smoke and fire billowing. Their initial armies had already begun the fray, clearing a path so the Horsemen could arrive with their larger army, ready to destroy.

“So this is where we part ways, I guess,” Alice interrupted, stuffing her hands in her pockets and raising her brows.

Jughead sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the reality of putting their plan into action seeming much broader and open to failure than when it was just a theory.

“Be careful,” Alice muttered groggily, exhausted from the climb and events of the day.

“You too,” Betty whispered, not daring to touch or embrace her for fear of never letting go. Jughead seemed to understand her needs, having already said their goodbyes down below in Hell anyway. He nodded to her and she offered a slight bob back.

Lifting up his hand he created a slice in the veil between Earth and Purgatory. With one heartfelt look back, he stepped into the void with Alice, wondering if the heartache he felt in his chest was only possible because he had been on Earth.

As the opening closed, Betty wiped her hands up and down on her tattered jeans, noting the specks of blood from tiny cuts she received while climbing staining the fabric. She rubbed enough ash from her skin and then placed her palms on her knees, taking a few deep breaths and enjoy the fresh oxygen intake while she could. From her vision, she knew that wouldn’t last long.

She figured she had just a bit of time before everything went haywire and she’d best use that time to formulate a plan.

Focusing her mind, she thought back to her studies in the Relictorium. She concentrated on the words and phrases she had learned in such rapid succession.

Holding out an arm straight and firm, she muttered, “Securis Acies.”

In her outstretched arm a silver, heavy battle axe appeared, adorned with symbols and drawings for strength and protection. She felt powerful with the weight of it in her hand.

“Fuck, yes,” she spat uncharacteristically. “Running through forests, scaling the walls of Hell and wielding a battle axe. If only that waste of a PE teacher, Grundy, could see me now.”

Betty paused and cocked her head. Maybe Grundy would see her. Her father had killed the woman after all and she was definitely in Hell if Betty had any insight into how things worked.

The thought of death made Betty think of God.  _ Where was he in all of this? _ she wondered to herself. Scanning her surroundings, she noticed lights and arches off in the distance and the faint sound of carnival music. Grinning to herself, Betty had an idea.

_ Maybe God is watching _ she thought to herself, happy this idea landed in her lap.

If she was going to stall them long enough for her mother and Jughead she needed to exploit their weaknesses and her strengths. They were stronger and more knowledgeable in these matters, but she was human and had more knowledge of the playing field. Slinging her axe over her shoulder she set off to her left.

“Bring it on,” Betty Cooper whispered to herself.

  
  


**Riverdale**

**Purgatory- Level 1**

Alice and Jughead had arrived without detection or incident. He had taken them back into a central hub, a high energy location. So many lost souls tended to frequent these spots and buzz around them like bugs towards a porch light in the heat of a summer night. He wasn’t sure why; perhaps they could sense the vibrations of what was to come. 

“So how do we do this?” Alice asked, watching all the souls wandering around, glazed lost expressions on their faces.

“I figured many of the victims from Earth would be a bit shell shocked by what they had seen. That seems to be true based on how many confused wandering sounds there are. Many tend to congregate in this region, so I think it’s a good place to start.” Jughead explained, climbing onto a tree branch to stand high above the crowd.

“What happens next then? When they wake up? Do you think they will panic?” Alice asked, watching them wander and drift.

Jughead squinted and looked around at the souls there. Their ages varied from children to the elderly. There would without a doubt be a great amount of confusion.

“Yeah. You know what?” he said, hopping back down from the tree. “We are going to need back up. We need more souls to help us explain what’s going on in smaller groupings. We can’t risk panic and delay this process.”

Alice pushed her hair back behind her ears in a gesture that made Jughead smile. At times, her mannerisms were so similar to Betty’s. He hoped  _ she  _ was having more success than they were.

Closing his eyes and muttering to himself, a few new figures appeared before them; Veronica Lodge, Archie Andrews, Hal Cooper, and Cheryl Blossom.

They stood frozen, still unaware of their surroundings.

Alice’s eyes widened, her pupils dilating and blowing out wide at the sight of her late husband's face.

“Jughead,” she warned. “No. You can’t- not Hal. Not him. If he is on any side it’s the side of the Devil.”

“Alice,” he said soothingly, placing a palm on her shoulder. “He can’t hurt you any longer and trust me, this will work. We need faces that are familiar to each other so when they wake they are less confused.”

Alice didn’t want to trust him. She eyed Hal warily and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The last time she saw him he had his hands wrapped around her neck. Looking over at Jughead’s haze, she nodded. What choice did she have but to trust him?

Reaching out his hand again, he said, “Exsomnis,” and four sets of eyes met his, alert and aware.

Veronica’s were the least confused. She had already been Awakened once before and knew what was going on. The other three stood as if in a daze.

“What’s happening?” Archie asked. “I was just with my Dad and...hey, you look familiar… you…” he said to Jughead, stepping closer with each word.

“Yes,” he said holding up his palms. “Yes, we’ve met. I showed you the path to Heaven and I promise I will send you back if there is a Heaven to go back to after today.”

“Alice?” Has interrupted. “You! Because of you and your mouth I was caught!” 

Hal rushes forward as Alice began to cower behind Jughead in fear. Though she knew he couldn’t hurt her, old habits still die hard.

“Stagno,” Jughead called out, effectively freezing Hal in his tracks.

“Hello, Hal Cooper. You don’t know me, but I do know your daughter, Betty.”

At the mention of Betty’s name, Hal’s focus fell from Alice to Jughead, his body on high alert.

“Though you hurt her, in many ways, I know you loved her as well. She was your kin and now she desperately needs our help.” Jughead finished before releasing the hold he had on Hal.

“Betty,” he exhaled. “Is she alright? Where is she?”

“Betty’s dead thanks to you,” Alice snapped at him. “And she’s currently on Earth trying to take down Satan and she needs your help to do it because apparently, God has a sick sense of humor.”

“I’m sorry,” Cheryl piped in. “Dead? Are we all dead?”

Jughead nodded to her solemnly, wishing Alice broke the news a little more lightly.

Cheryl glanced down at her clothes and her skin which was still warm to the touch. She traced a finger down the edge of the fabric before crossing her arms over her chest and thrusting a hip forward.”

Veronica placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I was shocked at first too, Cheryl.”

“Shocked?” she spat back. “I’m not shocked. After JJ died I couldn’t take it anymore. I killed myself, Veronica. I’m just upset that this non-label, cheap fabric, travesty of an outfit is what they buried me in- or is that not how this works?”

Alice rolled her eyes and tossed up her hands and Archie hid a chuckle behind his hand.

“Not how it works, Cheryl,” Jughead explained. 

“So, why do you need from us, you drab-looking homeless necromancer.” Cheryl spat with a flick of her flame-red hair. “Despite the fact that you have me standing next to my brother’s murderer, I do like sweet, dear Betty enough to listen to your proposal.”

With all sets of eyes focused on his, Jughead gestured to a few tree trunks nearby.

“You may want to sit down for this…” he explained.

**New Jersey**

**Earth**

**Start of the Apocalypse**

Betty had wandered over to the amusement park she had seen in the distance. The giant, abandoned property sat eerily, some rides still turning and carnival music playing in the background. She considered taking one last ride on The Scrambler, her childhood favorite, just in case she was blasted back into that black void of nothingness later today.

She had looked around for exactly what she needed for her plans and had spent the past hour dragging, and levitating, large, oversized mirrors off the premises and over to the tree-lined area she had seen in her visions. 

Betty knew she would lose to them in battle due to their sheer strength and the fact that they were literally the bringers of the apocalypse, so she had enlisted a little bit of human help. Across from the clearing where she knew they’d rise she fastened various funhouse mirrors to the trees, creating the illusion of more pathways and trees, and also versions of her than possible.

She hoped the concept helped confuse them long enough for her to keep slipping from their grasp. Fastening the last mirror to a trunk and admiring her work, Betty placed her hands on her hips and glanced up at the mid-afternoon sun.

A newspaper that blew by told her it was June, and the air had a warm tinge to it, even when the breeze blew by. 

Betty didn’t know what came after this. Would she be caught and her soul eradicated? Would she remain on Earth, a ghostly shadow walking its reaches? Would be sent sent to Heaven… Hell? And what about her mother and Jughead? And worse, what if she failed? What happened to Polly and Juniper and Dagwood? It was all too much.

Moving out into the open field, Betty looked at the flames and burning growing larger in the distance. Judging by how rapidly it was spreading, hundreds of thousands of people were already dead. It would begin here soon, she could feel it.

Taking a moment to turn away from the carnage, Betty faced the open grass field again and lay down. She concentrated on the rays warming her skin and the tiny blades of grass tickling her skin, prickling the tiny hairs on her arms to stand at attention. If these were her last moments, and Earth’s last moments, she deserved to enjoy them and Earth deserved to be appreciated.

  
  


**Riverdale**

**Purgatory- Level 1**

After learning of the impending arrival of Satan on Earth, it was easy to convince Veronica, Archie, and Cheryl to help. Hal had resisted at first, convinced most of Earth’s inhabitants deserved to die, but when he found out that Betty would also be a casualty of war, he relented.

“Alright, you hobbledehoy, let’s get this show on the road,” Cheryl barked, picking at her fire-red nail polish. “While you stand around here in those dated 1985 sneakers, Lucifer is stomping on heads and popping eyeballs.”

“Nice,” Archie said with a shake of his head. “Really nice visual.”

Mumbling to himself, Jughead stalked over to the tree on which he stood before.  _ It’s quite possibly my last few hours in existence and I have to spend it with this bunch. _

Closing his eyes and focusing on enhancing his voice, he spoke clearly and loudly.

“Exsomnis, Stagno.”

The crowd in front of them was immobilized but awake. As planned, they divided them up into six smaller groups, each of them explaining what was at stake and how they came to be there. As Jughead finished his speech, he removed the movement binding from the souls and began to take some questions.

As all the groups finished and questions were answered, Alice led them all down to their knees in prayer. They confessed their sins, recited prayers to various deities in various languages, all of whom were connected and listening, and prayed for forgiveness. 

As the circling chants became a loud chorus of one, warmth and light began to flood the circle. Jughead could pick out singular prayers throughout the hum of the voices in the clearing.

“ _ Please, God, don’t let anything happen to my Isaiah, my grandbaby, in Michigan.” _

_ "Dios mío, lamento todos mis pecados con todo mi corazón ..." _

_ "S'il te plaît, pardonne-moi mes indiscrétions." _

As the prayers continued and the warmth grew, he could sense souls being accepted in Heaven’s warm embrace. Their plan was working. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jughead saw movement up ahead. A flash of robe forced him to follow the figure behind the trees.

_ Ezekiel,  _ he thought to himself.

Climbing down from his post overseeing the crowd, he followed the motion through the thicket of branches and followed close behind. When he reached a gap in the trees he shouted.

“Ezekiel!”

The figure stopped running, his back still facing Jughead. 

“Ezekiel, please,” he pleaded with him, the sting of betrayal still raw filling his voice with emotion.

“You’re dead. You’re soul eradicated. I saw it with my own eyes,” Ezekiel whispered into the woods.

“I am in fact, very much present, Ezekiel. My soul is intact and I am offering you a chance to explain yourself.”

Slowly, Ezekiel spun on the spot and lowered his hood, unable to meet Jughead’s eyes.

“Why?” was all Jughead said. 

“Because!” Ezekiel cried out. “He came to me, brother, and forced my hand! What was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to say no, Zeke! You were supposed to uphold the doctrine of our brethren! You were supposed to be my friend; my brother!”

The men stood there in silence for quite some time, chests heaving and fists clenching. Even if he wanted to, Ezekiel was too far into the thick of things now. There was no turning back or rebuilding this fractured relationship. 

“...I can’t let you go back and tell them our plan, brother,” Jughead said cooly to his foe.

“Well then, brother, I suppose we better get to it then,” Ezekiel sneered, straightening his shoulders and cracking his neck. 

Ezekiel lashes out first, not with angelic tongue, but with his fists, charging towards Jughead, fingers balled and extended, making contact with the side of his jawline. 

Prepared for the onslaught, Jughead braced himself for impact and widened his stance for balance. As Ezekiel rushed him, he recoiled from the pain in his jaw, but grabbed his brother’s body tightly with his arms and flung him to the soil below.

Landing a swift blow to the chest with the toe of his boot, he fell to his knees and straddled him, pinning his shoulders to the ground.

“You don’t need to end it this way, Ezekiel,” Jughead pleaded. “There is still time to make things right.”

The Shadowmen locked gazes, confusion plastered on Ezekiel’s face as his alliances wavered momentarily. Jughead loosened his grip a tad, the possibility of his old friend returning lighting up like a bulb in his chest. His hopes were soon diminished as he saw his eyes cloud over again and his jaw set hard.

They both began to speak, Jughead anticipating his move yelling just a second faster.

“Abyss-”

“ABYSSUS!” Jughead finished first, his friend’s eyes growing large before closing a final time, his form softly and slowly fading into nothingness.

Sinking back on his heels, he heaved in large gulping breaths and rolled his fists into balls. Jughead squinted his eyes to will back the tears that were beginning to form, finally allowing a few to escape, unable to repress them.

“Dammit, Ezekiel,” he whispered into the clearing.

He wished Betty were there to comfort him and offer him solace in her arms. 600 years of brotherhood eviscerated with the utterance of one word.

**New Jersey**

**Earth**

**Start of the Apocalypse**

Betty had lain in the grass for hours. She felt the occasional tremble of the ground underneath her. It was almost like the tiny tremors scientists always said preceded an earthquake; and boy was the quake of all times on its way.

She wondered if Jughead and Alice were having any luck down in Purgatory or if things there were in upheaval with the swift influx of souls. Rolling onto her stomach, she looked back for the first time since she had collapsed in the greenery. 

The walls of smoke and ash extended even further now- hundreds of miles if she had to guess. If this was just a pre-regime clearing a pathway, she couldn’t imagine the carnage the Horsemen and their armies would bring.

As if her thoughts were a catalyst, the ground beneath her feet began to shake again, but stronger than before. The trembling grew so intense, her body was tossed to the side and hit the ground roughly. Staying crouched where she fell, Betty looked on with a piercing stare. 

The shaking became so unbearable that she felt as if her body was becoming liquified. Any living souls within a few miles radius of this activity would certainly not be able to withstand the shaking.

A canon of a sound shot off into the atmosphere like thousands of bombs colliding in the atmosphere as the earth cracked open before her. A long slot appeared in the ground and began to extend rapidly, opening a gap in the Earth as far as the eye could see.

The planet itself seemed to groan from the intrusion, crying out for mercy and assistance. Perhaps she knew she was taking her last breaths of fresh air, too.

As Betty thought about the sadness a hypothetical Earth might feel, the tremors began to cease. The chasm had been spread wide, probably over a mile in height. Building and homes, parks and schools had crumbled into the death below as the ground crumbled like an overused candle-wick.

From the depths, silence lingered for but a moment before the sounds of screeches and groans and the distinct pattern of hoofbeats reached her ears.

Betty remained crouched down as all Hell broke loose; literally. From the vast gap came wailing apparitions dying from their long-held prison, mangled bodies with decaying flesh, climbing and clawing their way out, and then finally, like dark pillars casting a shadow over the land, the Horsemen, followed by the Premiere Shadowman emerged.

Now present, they would begin their ride, decimating all life in their path, and once complete, Lucifer would rise.

Betty found herself momentarily paralyzed in fear. The figures clawing their way from the depths had slacked jaws and partially empty eye sockets. What little clothing remained was tattered and torn, many not clothes at all, with exposed bones and organs peeking out from open orifices.

Gathering her thoughts, she willed herself to call and focus. 

_ Focus, Betty,  _ she scolded herself.  _ The whole planet is counting on you. _

Just in case God was watching, she sent a silent prayer to him and Gusion, to watch over her and help her in her endeavors before standing up and running closer to where the Horsemen sat, crouching low as to remain unseen.

She ran until she was in the exact positioning she had seen in her vision, ready to attract their attention.

Taking a deep breath, and crossing herself for good measure, Betty shook her head and took a firm stance.

_ Here we go  _ she thought to herself.

At her full height, no longer hiding, Betty was now visible to the demons above. As if drawn by opposing magnetic poles, their heads swerved to examine her, the Premiere’s eyes hardening and narrowing in aggravation.

“Hey, you guys know if that’s the Lincoln or Holland Tunnel over there,” Betty yelled up towards where they stood. “I can never get those two straight.”

“Prophetam!” he snarled, glowering down at her from his horse.

“Asshat!” Betty shot back, unsure of where the desire to shout that came from.

“Seize her!” he commanded, gesturing forward and the Horsemen began to ride, their hooves pounding like thunder, and only a bit less loud than her own heartbeat.

Turning, Betty took off for the trees, running towards the maze of mirrors she had created.

_ Just buy them more time  _ she recited to herself as she ran.  _ Just keep your soul long enough to let them tip the scales. _

As she reached the covering of trees, Betty picked a spot that refracted multiple images of herself throughout the mirrors. There were about forty Betty’s at this point, all staggered throughout the trees.

“Please be strong but dumb,” she whispered as their hooves reached her trap and skidded to a stop. She could hear the appalling snorts and breaths of the horses as they stopped and could smell the festering rot that they exuded.

Confused by the presence of so many Betty’s, Famine carefully strode forward towards one of the mirrors, his horse sniffing at her figure there before smacking the glass with his hoofprint, neighing and rearing back as the glass shattered on the ground.

The horses behind also rose to their hind legs, front hooves pawing in the air as the broken shards crunched under Famine’s steed’s feet.

The other horsemen began to move, swerving in and out of the trees and stopping before each and every image of Betty. The snouts of the horses would steam up the mirror glass and they would move on to the next figure. 

As they swerved in and out and back and forth, Betty danced around them, doing her best to remain unseen and away from their presence.

War grew impatient and frustrated with the game. Lifting his sword, he rode frantically and erratically through the tree field, lashing out and smashing mirrors as he went.

Up until that point she had been lucky, thwarting their weapons and their presence. As she turned a corner she came face to face with Pestilence, the hooded figure’s face obscured from sight. The horse paused at her arrival and sniffed at her neck, worms and maggots curled and rolled together in its skin, bubbling out like lava from a crater. The stench alone was unbearable.

Gagging, Betty covered her mouth and turned on her feet, running at high speed in the other direction. Pestilence, hot on her trail turned left and right, following all her sharp movements and narrow turns.

Betty ran to a circular crossway of mirrors she had set up earlier and crouched down low. As Pestilence approached, the appearance of multiple Bettys inundated it. 

Whispering the words she had practiced earlier, Betty summoned her battleaxe and waited in her hidden crouch. Pestilence stalked around the circle, sniffing each reflection as it strolled. 

Gripping the axe tightly, she stilled as the horse approached. As it reached her crouch a few steps away, Betty jerked back her arm and crushed the axe through the horse’s legs, the horse seething and yelling, fell towards the ground.

Twisting the axe, Betty jabbed the handle through the horseman’s face as he crashed down upon her, his spear grazing and cutting Betty’s arms on the way.

The commotion alerted the others to her whereabouts and they set off in hot pursuit. Betty darted through the trees and found herself out in the clearing, her evasive mirrors all but smashed.

With her feet pounding the ground, she ran as fast as humanly possible. She willed herself not to look back as the hoofbeats grew closer. Her fear won out and she momentarily glanced behind her shoulders to see them hot on her tail.

Before she could turn back, her body collided with a solid figure, being flung back towards the ground and landing with a thump on the ground, the wind knocked out of her from the impact.

Inhaling harshly to try and draw back her breath, Betty drew her eyes up the torso of the body looming overhead. The Premiere Shadowmen looked down on her with disdain and disgust before reaching down and wrapping a tight first around her throat. Lifting her body into midair, he began to choke all the oxygen from her body.

“First, I’m going to hurt you child,” he hissed. “Then I’m going to extinguish your soul.”

Gurgling and gasping, Betty was desperate for oxygen as he constructed his fist around her throat. She could tell she was moments from blacking out when she heard Jughead’s voice whispering in her ear.

_ “Most people would have crumbled over the last few days, but you’re resilient. That’s how I know we are going to win this fight. We can’t lose if you’re on our side.” _

_ “We can’t lose,”  _ she thought to herself.  _ “We can’t lose.” _

Summoning all the strength she could muster, Betty used the heel of her hand to jab into his nose. As he recoiled back, she used that opportunity to send a well-placed elbow jab into his arm and a fast swift kick to his ribs, forcing him to release her from his hold.

He grabbed at her ankle, grasping a firm hold around it and yanked her closer. Betty did her fingernails into the soil and charred grass beneath her. From where she lay on her stomach she could see the bone-like legs of the horses, the fourth one reassembled since her assault.

_ “I tried, Jughead,”  _ she thought to herself. She closed her eyes and imagined his face. If this was truly her end she didn’t want rotting horse meat and crawling maggots to invade her last thoughts.

She shoved her right hand in her pocket and gripped onto his button tight, trying to feel the warmth of his arms and the scent of his skin. 

Somewhere, in another plane of time, something stirred in Jughead’s chest.

_ “Betty,” _ he whispered to himself.

The Premiere’s hold tightened and she could feel bone shatter. She screamed into the blistering, ashy air, but could not hear her own shriek. A sound of rumbling had filled the air instead.

The ground began to quake and rumble again, as violently as before.

_ “It’s too soon,”  _ Betty thought to herself.  _ “The Horsemen didn’t clear the Earth yet. Lucifer can’t be rising.” _

With that realization, a slow grin spread across Betty’s face. She pushed her way into her back to look up the Andromalius.

“Why do you grin, foolish child,” he spat. “You have lost and your soul will spend an eternity suspended in silent darkness.”

“Yeah, about that…” Betty spoke before they all began to be sucked towards the giant opening in the Earth as if a sun-sized vacuum was pulling them.

The horses, without nails to dig into the soil, flew by her first, the Horsemen frantically waving and howling beneath their robes.

Betty once again dug her fingernails deep into the ground, pressing herself as low as she could to avoid the suction. The Premiere, who had stood taller than her, was pulled towards the crevice. His hold on Betty’s fractured ankle began to tighten as he tried to use her to stay on solid ground.

Debris battered her as it was sucked into the depth of the Earth. The risen souls, in their ghost and bodied forms flew back, sometimes piece by piece into the depths from which they came.

The stretch in her arm started to make her muscles burn. She couldn’t hold on much longer with the weight of Andromalius pulling her back. Her grip faltered and they began to fly towards the void, Betty frantically grasping at the ground as she went.

At the precipice of the crater, Betty gripped onto the edge desperately as they went over the side, her hands grasping at a stone sticking up from the earth.

She sighed for a moment, but then the stone began to slip, the weight of her and Andromalius too heavy to remain stable.

Tilting her head over her shoulder, she looked down at his form dangling beneath her. His eyes were wide with shock and pled for assistance. 

Betty plastered the same sneer on her face that he had earlier and muttered, “Enjoy the darkness, asshole. ABYSSUS!”

With a spark of fear, and maybe a bit of admiration, Andromalius ceased to exist and began to crumble into emptiness.

Though the weight on her body was lessened, she was still battered by bodies of the undead falling off the edge as they were sucked below. An even stronger rumbling began and Betty realized the crevice was beginning to close itself up. If she couldn’t pull herself up she’d be severed in two, and if she pulled up and let go without anything to grab on to, she’d bad sucked right back downward.

She closed her eyes and made a choice. She would just let go and seal her fate. She couldn’t die and had to idea what it might be like to be stuck as a severed body between giant slabs of rock of all eternity. At least in Hell there was chance of escaping again as they had done before.

Biting her tongue to help will herself to let go she began to count.

“1...2...3,” she whispered anxiously to herself, before loosening her grip.

She waited for the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that came with falling; like when her father had taken her on an enormous coaster at Seven Flags one summer, but it never came.

Instead, a familiar warmth was wrapped around her wrist, lifting her from the pit and pulling her tightly to his chest.

Without opening her eyes Betty knew it was him. She crashed into his chest, holding on for dear life. As the wailing wind stopped and the ground mended the hole that had split before, they collapsed to the ground under the tremendous shaking.

There was no way there wouldn’t be further deaths after this. With the crust shifting and splitting, moving and colliding, there would be volcanic eruptions, aftershocks, and tsunamis. Though humanity was spared, hundreds of thousands would still not survive.

Betty wept against his chest at the thought of this and from the sheer letdown of the recent events. He cradled her to his chest and pressed a fierce kiss to the top of her head, partially to comfort her and partially to comfort himself.

Though her mind thought of the dead and was saddened, she reminded herself that her life hadn’t even started until it ended. Maybe death would offer a new beginning to so many like her.

Pulling back, she finally looked up at his face and smiled. Jughead couldn’t help but smile back. They had done it. They had kept Lucifer at bay. In between her giggles, Betty slid a hand across his jaw and he slanted his lips over hers, slowly exploring each other.

“Uh, hmm,” a throat cleared from behind them.

Turning to look over her shoulder, Betty was accosted by a man all in white, minus his black canvas sneakers, with a light so pure and radiant emanating from him that it made her want to weep.

“Who are-” Betty began.

“God?” Jughead spoke. “What are you- why didn’t you interfere earlier?!”

“God?!” Betty yelled, springing to her feet and looking on with shock and awe. “Like.. God, God?”

Chuckling to himself, the man laughed at her obvious astonishment.

“God, God,” he repeated. “It never gets old. But, yes, Betty, I am God, God.  _ The  _ God. At your service.”

While Betty gazed on in awe, Jughead hardened his jaw. He had worked for and worshipped God so purely for so long and yet he had let this happen- he had let Betty almost get destroyed. What kind of a deity was he?

“I can feel your anger, Jones,” God spoke. “And I don’t blame you. I owe you an explanation.”

“Then explain,” Jughead snapped back.

“Jug,” Betty said softly, turning to him and placing her hand in his own. He felt some of the tension drain and offered her a silent nod of thanks.

“Jughead, Betty, the angel Gusion came to be centuries ago when he initially foresaw these events unfolding. We tried to play around with different scenarios, but the only time Lucifer was thwarted was the scenario where you two did it alone.”

Jughead narrowed his eyes and nodded, rolling his eyes up to the sky.

“A bit of a heads up would have been nice,” he grumbled.

God shrugged and sighed. “If I could have, you know I would. Gusion left specific instructions. He was purposely cast down to Earth, stripped of his wings and branded a fallen angel though he was the most devoted. He needed to play his role to ensure humanity’s future survival.”

Betty blinked a few times, unable to process what she was hearing. Her ancestors were angels, and one had a secret pact with God that Betty would someday stop Satan from taking over Earth. It was like a bad science fiction novel.

“Betty,” he spoke, addressing her directly. “You have no idea how amazing you were and how strong. The entirety of Heaven and Earth owe you thanks and praise.”

Betty blushed from his admiration and gave Jughead’s hand another squeeze.

“It was a team effort,” she confessed as God’s eyes trailed down to their connected fingers, making Jughead feel a bit queasy.

“As a token of thanks, Betty, I’d like to offer you some choices; you can remain here on Earth, alive again to live out your days, or you can join me in Heaven as a guardian angel, overseeing many souls who are desperate here on Earth.”

Jughead forced a smile down at Betty. Though his chest beamed with pride, his heart broke. Guardian angel was one of the most precious and sought after jobs and he knew Betty deserved this honor. But in doing so, she’d be taken away from him; whether I’m Heaven or here on Earth.

“Thank you, Sir, God, Mr. God, I-” she stopped, unsure how to address him.

“God is fine, but I also go by Max quite often.”

“Max?” she questioned. “I- okay, God. I really appreciate your offers and I am truly honored, but I’d like to make a counter offer instead.”

Jughead’s jaw hit the floor and God tossed back his head and laughed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Betty,” Jughead said, “are you negotiating with God?” Jughead asked impressed and bewildered.

Betty quirked her brow and grinned back at him, shrugging.

“I figure I just saved Earth. If I was ever going to call in a favor, now would be a good time.”

God chuckled once more before looking over at Jughead, a pointed look on his face.

“I like this one, Jones. Try not to mess things up.”

  
  


**Riverdale**

**Purgatory- Level 1**

**2 years later**

Betty flopped back and sighed, falling into the soft comfort of her pillow. Rolling forward, Jughead dropped a few more light kisses to her shoulder and one final one to her lips before laying on his side, head held up in his hand.

“Do you have to go?” he asked sadly, the tip of his pointer finger tracing a soft path down her arm.

Betty shot him what was supposed to be a dirty look, but couldn’t conceal the smile behind it.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Jones,” she warned him. “And yes, I have to go meet my mother.

Two years ago, Betty had shared her terms with God. With the Shadowmen gone, he needed reliable souls to help run Purgatory. She had secured herself and Alice spots as Watchers, no longer termed Shadowmen due to Alice’s complaints of its sexist roots.

Betty also had stipulated that a lonely existence for the Shadowmen had led to their downfall and that each should be able to have a working partner of their choosing. God had smirked and asked, rhetorically, if Betty would be joining Jughead in level one to continue their adorable romance.

Veronica and Cheryl had also stayed behind to man a level together as well; they had chosen greed because they both said they had plenty of experience with that. 

Leaning over to give him one last kiss, Betty pecked his lips and then froze. Jughead recognized her facial expression as that of another vision. In the past two years she had learned to have better control during them and no longer shook or seized.

Her face was dreamy and soft during this one.

_ “Must be a good vision this time,” _ he thought to himself.

When Betty’s eyes were alert and met his again she grinned at him slowly, still picturing him, running through their house with his arms held high, chasing a little ball of golden curls who was shrieking and flying room to room.”

“Welcome back,” he teased her. “That looked like a nice one this time. Care to share?”

Betty smirked at him and shook her head slowly, sliding from the bed and dressing quickly.

“Hey Jug?” she asked casually as she toed on a sneaker. 

“Hmm?” he intonated, leaning over to grab a text from his nightstand.

“Can part angel, part human, part demon thingies have babies?”

“Babies?” he asked, a look of utter bafflement plastered across his face. “I have no idea. Why would you even…”

His voice trailed off at her shrug and sly smile. Winking at him and turning once more, Betty bounced out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

“Betty!” he called, fumbling and falling out of bed with a thump to chase her down. “Betty! What did you see…. Betty?!” 

From the living room he heard her laugh as she waited for him to catch up. She couldn’t help but think that for a dead girl, her afterlife wasn’t half bad.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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